


The Solid Body of a Dream

by tsukinobara



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, CBGB's, Community: spn_j2_bigbang, M/M, New York City, Punk Rock, Too many characters for one comment field, for once i didn't write about cars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7898728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukinobara/pseuds/tsukinobara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1979 and Jensen is living in New York, spending the summer fanboying Patti Smith, hanging out with the punks and no wavers at CBGB's, waiting for his senior year of art school, and getting involved with a seventeen-year-old named Jared, who wants to make it big with his band. A year later the two of them are living together in an East Village apartment with a bathtub in the kitchen. What follow after that are eight years of experimental hair, thrifted clothes, makeouts, breakups, art, and music, the punk backdrop to Jensen's years in New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Solid Body of a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for brief underage (Jared's 17), the appearance of JJ Ackles, some Jensen/Danneel, rose-colored nostalgia, and Chad. This is all lies and bullshit and stuff that makes me giggle, altho some of the people and places do exist where I've put them, or did at one time.
> 
> alwaysawkward made the [nifty art](http://alwaysawkward.livejournal.com/240317.html).

  


_Now_  


Jensen loves his daughter, he really does, but when she volunteered to come out to Chicago to help him move, he wasn't expecting her to make such a mess. She's currently going through the closet in the guest room and dumping everything on the bed, while he tries to sort it into "Move" and "Donate" piles. All this old ski stuff can -

"Dad?" she says, breaking his concentration. "Is this _Patti Smith_??"

"What?" he answers.

"This! This is Patti Smith! You saw her play live?" JJ waves an old black and white photo in front of Jensen's face. He takes it, glances at it, then turns it over. _Patti Smith Group, Max's Kansas City, Sept '77_.

Jensen had gone to New York for art school, and when he came back for his sophomore year, one of the first thing he'd done was find out what shows were coming up and did he want to see any of them. He and Danneel used to joke that Patti's show at Max's was their first date.

"I took your mom," he says now.

"You took Mom?" JJ stares at him in disbelief.

"I told her she'd like it."

"And?"

He shrugs. "She felt like she was out of her element. Art school was a great place for her, but it took her some time to get used to the city." And he was always disappointed that she never learned to love Patti like he did. "Where'd you get this?" He hands the photo back.

"I found a box." JJ holds out a beat-up cardboard box that Jensen knows used to contain a pair of cowboy boots and tilts it so he can see inside. There are more photos, some zines, a bunch of flyers, a tiny red Converse baby shoe, a plastic sleeve of film negatives, an ancient cassette tape. He can feel the nostalgia creeping up on him. JJ takes out the tape. "THE KRAYS LIVE!!" is scrawled across it in red ink. "Who were the Krays? The name's familiar."

"English organized crime family," Jensen says automatically. "In London in the 60s. I thought you saw the movie."

"I did. But this isn't a tape of English criminals." She shoves a stack of bedsheets out of the way and empties the box on the bed, spreading everything around and peppering Jensen with questions. "Is that Uncle Chris? What did he do to his hair? Who are these girls? The one on the end looks really familiar. Is that really a bathtub in the kitchen? I thought those were an urban legend. Holy shit, that's Mom. What is she wearing? Did she make that? Why? Did you _bleach_ your _hair_? Oh my god, Dad, what were you thinking? Who's this boy? You have a lot of pictures of him."

"That's... his name is Jared. The Krays was his band."

"Who was he?"

_He was the one who walked_ , Jensen wants to tell her. Jared was his life Before – before he and Danneel had JJ, before they got married, before he grew up – and he's never bothered to talk about that part of his past with his daughter or anyone else.

It looks like he might have to. He's not sure how he feels about that.

"I know you didn't come into existence the day I was born," JJ says, "but I never really thought about your life before me." She sounds thoughtful and curious. "Oh, here they are." She holds up a photo showing four teenage boys playing at a grotty club Jensen should remember the name of. "The Krays, The Alley, August '79," she reads off the back. "Were they any good?"

"In 1979 they were a garage band."

"That doesn't mean anything. So were the Ramones. Wait. Did you know the Ramones too?"

"No. I just saw them play."

"Can we go through this?" JJ gestures at the pile on the bed. "You'll have to sort out everything in that closet anyway." She beams proudly at him, as if she's made some kind of point. Jensen brushes his hand through the photos and zines and miscellany. He's carried that shoebox around for over thirty years, since JJ was a baby, and he hasn't looked in it in at least that long. He's never had to.

"Why didn't you ever talk about this part of your life?" JJ asks, and he doesn't know how to tell her that he never wanted to.

But it looks as if his daughter, who's been a nosy creature for every one of her thirty-two years, is going to make him.

She sits on the edge of the bed, spreads the photos around, pushes the flyers and zines and strips of negatives to the side, and picks out the baby shoe.

"That was yours," Jensen says, unnecessarily. She holds up a photo, showing Chris and Steve sitting in the bathtub in the kitchen and giving each other bunny ears. "That's Chris and his friend Steve in our tub. Those weren't an urban legend."

"I think it's great," JJ says, dropping the photo and sifting through more.

There's another one of Patti Smith, Richard Hell on his way out of CBGB's, the Talking Heads from a show Danneel made him go to. There's Chris asleep on their broken-down, curb-recycled couch, Alona standing in front of the Chelsea Hotel pointing emphatically at the door, Danneel in an apron and bikini top making popcorn in her and Felicia's kitchen. A whole group of them standing on the sidewalk in front of CBGB's, Chris' folkie friend Julie perched like an imperious blonde hood ornament on a car parked against the curb.

"I remember nights like this from college," JJ says fondly, grinning at a dimly-lit picture showing a group of people at some dive in Chinatown, taken so late at night it was practically morning, after too many hours awake, too many drinks, and too much fun.

"Usually we went to the Kiev," Jensen tells her. "There was a waitress who was only polite to Steve, because she thought he was cute." He hands JJ a photo showing Rachel half-asleep against Steve's arm in a booth. "That night she actively ignored him."

Jensen finds three pictures from a baseball game, one serendipitously (and embarrassingly) taken the second Hayley ran smack into him in the outfield and brought them both down. There's Jensen with Jared's crazy friend Chad at Coney Island. A girl whose name he doesn't remember sitting on the floor holding a three-month-old JJ and waving away a hand emerging from the edge of the picture to offer a beer. Chris' second band sprawled on someone's front stoop. A Polaroid someone else took of Danneel the night she managed to get into the Mudd Club. Gory Alice on stage, Alona and Adrianne cheerfully screaming the chorus of whatever song they're slamming their way through at each other. Jensen remembers trying to work his way around the stage to take some pictures of Rachel behind the drums, thinking that no one ever focused on the drummers and that was a shame.

"It's an all-girl band," JJ exclaims, excitedly waving the photo of Gory Alice. "And they were your friends?"

"They were."

"You're such a '77 punk cliché." JJ hands him another photo, this one showing himself and Hayley standing in front of CBGB's. He's wearing a white t-shirt, Chad's black leather jacket, and a spiked dog collar Danneel bought him as a joke. Hayley's hair is in a ponytail but his is spiked in every direction, and they're both sneering at the camera and giving it a two-fingered salute. Jensen doesn't remember keeping the picture, but he remembers the night – Alona stealing Chad's jacket, of which he was inordinately possessive, making Jensen wear it even though the weather was hot and humid, and commanding "Say 'anarchy'!" as she took the picture.

"1980, actually," Jensen says.

And there's Jared, popping up again and again – on stage, in Chris and Jensen's apartment, playing his guitar, talking, arguing, eating, reading, sightseeing, trying to sing. Goofing off. Grinning like whatever is going on at that moment is the best thing that ever happened to him.

They're just snapshots, pictures taken in low light, in almost no light, in bright sun. His art school friends would look at most of them and cry. Jensen was very good about writing names and dates on the back, but he remembers when and where they were taken anyway. His friends, his life, in the years when New York was his – his grubby, grimy, down-at-heel, beautiful, broke-ass city.

Jensen can easily sort the photos that his daughter is now scrutinizing into Before Jared and After Jared. JJ might be able to guess where the cutoff is, but she won't know how sharp and painful it was when it happened, because for better or worse this is a part of Jensen's life that he never shared with her. Most of the people in the photos are people she doesn't and never will know.

Which is a pity. She's just given him a chance to tell her, so maybe he should.

"Is this me?" JJ asks, incredulous, holding up a photo of a baby fast asleep in a dresser drawer. "You made me sleep in a drawer?"

Jensen shrugs. "We couldn't afford a crib and didn't really have room for one anyway. You slept in a drawer the first two years of your life."

"I slept in a drawer!" She looks so excited about it. "I didn't realize you were that cool."

"I wasn't cool. Your mom and I were just broke."

"We should go to New York. You should show me your old stomping grounds." She grins hugely in a way that makes him think, incongruously, of Jared. "It'll be fun." Her attention abruptly shifts to a picture on top of one of her piles. She picks it up, peers at it, hands it over without a word.

It's Jared and Jensen sitting on the sprung couch, surrounded by people at what must have been some kind of party, the two of them kissing as if they're the only people in the room.

"He was your boyfriend, wasn't he," JJ says. "Jared. Now you have to tell me about him."

When he doesn't immediately say anything, she says, "I know you had boyfriends before Mom. But all this... punk stuff, this underground stuff, I didn't know any of this. Dad, please. At least tell me who all these people are and why you kept these pictures of them. They were your friends and I don't know about any of them. We can take a break from packing."

Jensen picks up a photo at random to give himself time to think and looks at it without really seeing it. Does he really want his daughter to know all the things he got up to when he was twenty-one? There are some things that one's children just don't need to know.

But maybe he owes it to her, and to the people in the photos, and to the boy he used to be. Enough time has passed that all these stories are overlaid with a thin veil of nostalgia. He can share them without a pang for what was. 

JJ wants to hear these stories, so he tells her.

* * *

_Then_  


Jensen wakes up with the Lovin' Spoonful's "Summer in the City" running through his head. _Hot town, summer in the city...._ Not that he has any idea why. The song is over ten years old, and it's not as if he listens to radio stations that would play it.

The song is almost immediately driven out of his head by the sound of someone yelling through the kitchen, followed by a crash that sounds suspiciously like an album being thrown against the wall. Shit.

He rolls off the mattress, getting tangled in the sheet in the process, and finally manages to right himself and stumble out of the bedroom. A girl in ripped black tights and a long sleeveless white shirt is yelling at Chris, who's standing by the fridge with an annoyed expression on his face. The girl is holding a record like a frisbee, apparently ready to fling it at him. Jensen walks into the kitchen far enough to see the pieces of vinyl on the floor near Chris' feet.

"You god damned son of a bitch!" the girl yells, enunciating clearly the way people sometimes do when they're absolutely furious. "You fucking – you _asshole_."

"You woke up my roommate," Chris says mildly.

"Fuck your roommate!"

"I'm not into boys."

Jensen sighs.

"I never promised you anything," Chris goes on. "I said 'maybe'. I said it once. You made up everything else in your own head."

"Steve said - "

"Steve says a lot of shit. What did you think you'd get by fucking either one of us?"

_If it's Steve_ , Jensen thinks, _crabs_.

"You know Mark Sheppard!" the girl practically shrieks. "He said you did!"

"Wait," Jensen interrupts. "The promoter? You said he came into the diner once. You don't know him."

"That's what I said," Chris tells the girl. "I said if he came in again maybe I could give him your tape. _If_ and _maybe_. Steve just told you whatever he did to get into your pants. Now put the record down and apologize to Jensen for waking him up."

"Apologize my ass," she snaps. "You go to hell, _Christian_." She flips her wrist, flinging the record in Jensen's direction and causing him to duck. It hits the wall next to his shoulder. The girl snatches up her shoes from where they're lying by the couch and storms out.

"What the hell," Jensen says. He might actually be impressed at the girl's fury. Chris is very easygoing and doesn't generally engender that kind of anger in people. "Who was that?"

"No one. Me and Steve are gonna have words." He nudges some of the pieces of broken record with his toe. "I think this was Alona's. She's gonna be pissed." He looks over at Jensen. "Dude. It's almost noon. When did you get in?"

"God, I don't know. I left at almost five. It was just getting light." He kneels and starts collecting bits of vinyl from the floor. "A bunch of us went back to Rachel's place after the show. Gabe was there – you remember Book of Fish? They broke up, so he's looking for guys to start another band."

"Good," Chris says. "They were terrible."

"Anyway, there was this kid at the show, he's staying with his cousin in Queens for the summer – the cousin came with us too – he's from San Antonio. I could tell by the twang."

"Are you talking about the kid or the cousin? Do you have a point? I need coffee and food and there's nothing in the fridge."

"So you're saying it's a day that ends in 'y'. You wanna buy me breakfast?" Jensen stands up, hands full of broken vinyl. The pieces used to be a Jimmie Rodgers album, which means the girl in the long shirt broke one of Chris' cowboy country records. She probably didn't realize what she'd grabbed, but she'd no doubt be pleased.

"Not really. Are you gonna finish your story or not?"

"The kid's name is Jared and he and Gabe talked the entire night about music. They were still talking when I left."

"So are he and Gabe gonna play together?"

"Turns out he's already in a band, with his cousin and his cousin's friends. The Krays. I never heard of them and said so. Jared's convinced I will." Jensen dumps the record pieces in the trash can and shrugs. "I guess they're trying to get booked somewhere in the city. They're playing out in Queens in a week and a half, I think. Jared was trying to get Gabe to go."

"Huh," Chris says. "I shoulda pointed whatshername at him."

"If you see her again - "

"I'm never gonna see her again if I can help it." He inspects a particularly large shard of vinyl with a piece of label still clinging to it, then holds it out towards Jensen. "This was _Horses_. Sorry, man."

"Fuck. You owe me a record."

"Yeah, I probably do." Chris sighs. "Now put on some pants so we can eat. Steve owes me."

They convince Steve to buy them lunch, but he bows out of joining them as soon as he realizes that Chris is going to give him a lecture about the record-flinging girl in the apartment. At least he leaves them enough for the bill and a decent tip.

"I'll graduate next spring and get a job and start making enough money to feed myself," Jensen tells Chris as they walk home. Chris just laughs.

"Because art school is really preparing you for a job in the real world," he says.

"You never know."

"I can get you a job washing dishes now, if you're tired of sponging off me."

Jensen shoves him in the shoulder. Chris shoves back. "You love bringing home the bacon. Admit it. Besides, I'm still a student. You know I'm not supposed to be responsible."

When he came to New York three years ago to get his art degree from Cooper Union, Jensen had it in his head that he'd make art, he'd learn about making art, he'd see a lot of bands, he's get to see the Patti Smith Group live, and mostly he'd get out of Texas. He hadn't quite expected to move in with Chris, eventually ending up in a former tenement in the far reaches of the East Village with yet a third roommate and all of their combined stuff. At least Alona only has a guitar, an amp, some clothes, and books and notebooks for school, and Chris' contribution is a massive pile of records and a portable record player. And when school starts up again, Jensen will be able to haul all his art supplies back to the little studio space he'll be allotted in the Foundation Building, and make more space in the apartment.

Danneel and Felicia share a tiny place about a block away, their apartment crowded with clothes and art supplies, shoes and fabric and jewelry, Danneel's sewing machine and increasingly unstable piles of books. Danneel's concentration is fine art and Felicia's is illustration, so maybe all the clutter is an artist thing.

It's tough, being an art student. Cooper Union is an excellent school, and tuition's free – which is a relief for his parents, who only have to send him some money for rent and food and art supplies – and Jensen is here because it's what he wants to do. But all the same, his brother is in the pharmacy program at UT Austin, and he'll easily land a job when he graduates. Jensen isn't sure he’ll be able to do the same.

But that's a thought for another time. He has his senior year and his senior thesis project to get through first, and it's still the beginning of summer. The hot, sunny months stretch before him with nothing to fill them except late nights, late mornings, art for the hell of it, music, beer, and friends with equally lazy schedules.

A few nights later Jensen is at CBGB's, sweating through his t-shirt in the thick heat of the club, watching Chris filling in on guitar in Rob's band the Pits, because Rob managed to shut his hand in a car door and is temporarily out of commission. The place is hot, smelly, smoky, sticky, and packed with people, the bathrooms are a biohazard, and there's nowhere on earth Jensen would rather be. He doesn't even have to know the bands that are playing – all he has to know is that everyone else is there for the music and the crowd and the potential for the most life-changing thing that will ever happen to them.

Rob is standing by the side of the stage, his hand wrapped in gauze and an intent look on his face, so absorbed in what's going on onstage that he doesn't realize Jensen has come up to him until Jensen taps him on the shoulder.

"Sorry about the hand," Jensen yells over the music. The Pits are a loud band, even when you're not standing right next to the stage. People crowd around them, heaving with the sounds of the music. "Chris told me this morning."

"Fucking sucks," Rob yells back. "Speight's so pissed at me."

"You got Chris to fill in."

"Yeah, but I'm supposed to be singing." He waves his good hand at the stage, where Chris and Rich are sharing a mike. Rich does not look too upset about it.

"If he's pissed," Jensen observes, "he's doing a good job of hiding it."

"I said I'd buy the beer. And try to get him a date with the bartender." Now Rob waves in the direction of the bar.

"Good luck with that." Jensen watches the band for a minute. "They sound good. Maybe you should break your hand more often."

Rob shoots him a death glare. Jensen just grins and drinks some of his beer. 

"Asshole," Rob mutters.

"At least you didn't have to cancel. Think of it that way." He gestures back towards the bar with his bottle. Someone bumps his arm just enough to jog the bottle, but not enough to make him spill. "You want something?"

"Not yet, thanks."

"You don't have a cigarette, do you?"

"A what?"

"Smoke?" Jensen mimes taking a drag on an imaginary cigarette and blowing out a stream of smoke. Rob shakes his head.

"Rachel does, if you can find her."

And Rachel, as it turns out, is squished around a lucky table with Adrianne and Gabe and a blond boy Jensen doesn't recognize, and Jared. Jensen wasn't expecting to see him again, and yet here he is. CBGB's draws everyone in, sooner or later.

"Jensen!" Adrianne cries, waving him over. "There's no seats. You'll have to perch, like a vulture." She hunches over in what Jensen assumes is an imitation of a carrion bird, then giggles.

Gabe shoves his chair back and stands up. "You can have my seat," he says. "I gotta see a man about a plan."

Jensen plunks his beer down, falls into the chair, and leans over to ask Rachel if he can bum a cigarette.

"Moocher," she says affectionately, pushing a half-empty pack of Camels across the table. Jensen taps out a cigarette and lights it from a book of matches lying among the litter of bottles and glasses. Camels aren't his brand but he'll take one in a pinch. "He find a band yet?" he asks, gesturing at Gabe's vanishing form.

"Nope. But not for lack of trying."

"These guys suck," the blond boy announces, which makes Adrianne giggle again, and Jared punches him in the shoulder. "What? It's true."

"I think they sound pretty good," Jensen says, "considering the lead singer's out and they had to get a replacement."

"Rob's really mad at himself," Rachel offers. "Adrianne told him not to sweat it." Adrianne nods. "I said they're always so loud no one's gonna notice the difference." She takes the bottle sitting in front of Adrianne and drinks from it.

"Hey!" Adrianne protests.

"You can get another one."

"Get me one too," the blond boy says, lifting an almost-empty glass. He drains it. "Jack and Coke."

"You know Chad?" Jared asks, speaking up for the first time. "He's a bad influence." He grins and turns to Chad, then back to Jensen. "This is, um, shit, I forgot your name."

"Jensen," Jensen says to Chad by way of greeting. "Last time I saw you," he says to Jared, "you were bending Gabe's ear about music. He convince you to join his nonexistent band yet?"

"Couple times. I keep telling him no, I got a band, we're not looking for anyone, but he's really persistent. I still like talking to him." He picks up a bottle, lifts it to his lips, pulls it away, and cocks an eyebrow at it. "Are you getting up?" he asks Adrianne.

"Guess so," she sighs, pushing herself to her feet. "Guess this round's on me."

"I got the last one," Rachel volunteers.

Adrianne takes orders and makes her way to the bar. A drop in the level of noise in the club indicates that the band has finished its set, and Chad cheers. Jared punches him in the shoulder again.

"Don't be rude," he says, when Chad protests. "Are you in a band too?" he asks Jensen, and Jensen remembers that the night they met, Jared spent almost all his time talking to Gabe. "Wanna come out to Queens on Friday and see us?"

"He's telling everyone," Rachel says. She extracts a cigarette, lights it, and blows a thin stream of smoke off to the side. "I've never heard of the place."

"It's called Copley Hall," Jared says. "Cover's three dollars. We're only opening but it's our first real gig. You should come."

"Maybe," Jensen concedes.

"We're putting flyers up everywhere. Me and Chad got chased off a bunch of times." He and Chad grin, looking pleased with themselves.

"Where's your cousin?"

"Not here? He went out with his friends. My aunt and uncle know where I am," he adds.

Adrianne eventually returns with her hands full, distributing drinks around the table before telling Jensen that she ran into Chris and he wants to know how they sounded.

"Like crap," Chad says.

"Loud," Jensen says. "Pretty good. I'm sure he'll ask me again when I see him."

Over the course of the next few hours, he and Rachel finish her cigarettes, he has a couple more drinks, and – like Gabe – he finds himself talking almost exclusively to Jared, who's flushed and bright-eyed and chatty from too much beer, but interested in everything Jensen has to say. For a boy from the sticks – and as far as Jensen is concerned, San Antonio is the sticks – Jared is pretty well educated in music and not shy about demonstrating it. But he also asks what Jensen thinks and what Jensen knows and what opinions Jensen holds, and it might be the beer buzz and the air of potential that hangs over CBGB's like a cigaratte haze, but Jensen is oddly charmed.

It's a little past two by the time Jensen decides maybe he should go home. Chad insists he and Jared need to go too, because he has to pee and Jared needs to sleep. Jared does not look at all tired. Rachel vanished at one, but Adrianne is still here, and they were joined by Chris and Rob and Rob's injured hand almost an hour ago.

"Okay, fine," Jared says to Chad, and then, "I gotta pee. Don't go yet?" to Jensen. He's making his way through the crowd before Jensen can even think of a reply.

"He's cute," Adrianne says, after Jared has disappeared from view. "I think he likes you."

"Everyone likes Jensen," Chris says, clapping Jensen on the shoulder. Jensen rolls his eyes. Chris is pretty well lubricated by now and sometimes he gets effusive when he's been drinking. "Cats, dogs, babies, little old ladies, bus drivers, subway rats. Boys, girls, everyone."

"Pillows," Jensen adds. "I'm gonna go. Are you staying?" he asks Adrianne. "Because I'll walk you back to Rachel's."

"Yeah, I should take you up on that," Adrianne says. She sits up and digs through her jeans pockets. "Where's my – shit, keys. I'm gonna have to wake her up. You know she sleeps like the dead."

"You can crash on our couch. If Alona's not home, you can have her bed." Jensen stands and holds out his hand to her.

"Oh, fuck, what's today? Is it Monday?"

"It's Tuesday by now," Jared offers, reappearing next to the table.

"Shit. You gotta wake me up in the morning so I can go home. My mom's got a, a, a thing, I can't remember, I gotta be dressed and ready to go by ten. _Fuck_ ," she adds with feeling. "I'm gonna be hungover. My mom's gonna be pissed. I shouldn't have stayed out tonight. I shoulda gone home."

"Where's home?"

"Queens. My parents don't expect me to come home this late – they'd rather I crashed with friends than wake them up – but Mom'll expect me to be there in the morning."

"You still live with your parents?" Chad asks.

"Yeah. Where'd you think I lived?"

"How old are you?"

"Guess." Now she grins. Tricking strangers about her age is one of Adrianne's favorite things to do.

"High school," Jensen volunteers. Adrianne laughs at Chad's surprised expression. Jared just looks thoughtful. "Come on." Jensen offers Adrianne his hand again. "You can sleep on our couch. I'll set my alarm clock for you."

"So chivalrous," Chris says approvingly.

"So bad at balance," Adrianne adds, stumbling into the table as she stands up. "So much beer."

"You fake sober really well," Rob says. He seems to be in a better mood, now that the Pits are off the stage, he and Rich have had a conversation without yelling, and he's sucked down a drink or two.

"I'm very skilled." Adrianne giggles, apparently in a better mood as well, pats Rob and Chris on the head, and lets Jensen take her hand to steady her.

"Wait, don't go yet," Jared says, pointing emphatically at Jensen. "Chad, stay, I need a pen." He pushes himself to his feet and makes his way through the crowd to the bar, returning a minute later bearing a napkin with " ~~Coply~~ Copley Hall Friday 7:00 The Krays!!" scribbled on it. He presents it to Jensen with a reminder that Jensen should bring friends, and then he and Chad weave out of the bar with their arms around each other's shoulders. Jensen and Adrianne watch them go, amused.

On the way home Adrianne spends some quality time talking to Jensen about the cute high school boy from Texas, which Jensen finds amusing.

"He's a year older than you are," he says. "It's funny that you're treating him like a kid. He's been asking everyone to come see his band. That doesn't make me special."

"He wants you to see them specifically," Adrianne says with finality, as if that proves her point. A homeless guy calls out to her from his nest on the sidewalk, and she blows him a kiss.

"Someone you know?"

"Always be nice to the homeless guys. It's good for your soul." She links her arm with Jensen's. "Thanks for letting me crash."

"Thank Alona. I didn't want you to walk by yourself." Adrianne can probably take care of herself, but she's his friend and sometimes he feels protective.

It's an unpleasant night – hot and humid and airless, and the city as always smells like trash and pee – but are other people out, going home or going to clubs or visiting their friends, and when a couple of girls who look familiar wave to him as they pass, he waves back. They're wearing paper party hats and holding hands.

"Party in the East Village," Adrianne says. "We should do that. Have a street party. Look, rats." She points to movement around a cluster of trash cans. "Maybe they're going to a party too. I drank too much. Jared's really cute. You should go for him."

"He's still in high school."

"So am I. You talked to him all night!"

And Jensen can't deny any of that. Jared's gangly and young and a little bit like a puppy in a t-shirt, but Jensen did talk to him a lot, and he's definitely cute.

Jensen does not go out to Queens on Friday, for the simple reason that Danneel wants to throw Felicia a birthday party, and Jensen's friends take precedence over near-strangers. But he sees Jared at CBGB's on Thursday and breaks the news to him in person. Jared is disappointed, but convinced that the Krays will get other gigs over the summer, so Jensen will have more chances to see them.

"Spare us some good thoughts tomorrow," he adds, "when you're at your friend's party."

"I will," Jensen says. "Good luck."

"Adrianne's right," Chris says later. "He does like you."

on Saturday, the night after the Krays' gig in Queens, Jensen finds himself at the Kiev at four in the morning, with a crowd of people including Jared's cousin, all of them drunk and hungry and Jared practically vibrating with excitement from the night before. He’s squashed next to Jensen in the booth, his knee jumping with energy and his mouth going a mile a minute. Rachel leans into Steve, because she's tired and he's there, and Chad and Jared's cousin both keep trying and failing to put the moves on Alona – and Chris keeps valiantly trying to distract them – and as they're all walking Rachel home, Jared takes Jensen's hand.

And Jensen doesn't mind.

The party, such as it is, moves to Jensen and Chris and Alona's place, mostly because Jared and Chad aren't ready to crash yet and Jared's cousin seems to think he still has a chance with Alona.  
"I'd give it up, man," Steve suggests. His finger waggles in Chris' direction. "You're never getting past the bulldog."

"I heard that," Chris calls over his shoulder.

"You know it's true," Jensen says.

"Every girl should have such dedicated bodyguards," Alona tells them, grinning. She slings an arm around Chris's neck. Jared's cousin is not swayed.

There's too many of them to sit out on the stoop where they might catch a breeze, so they clatter upstairs. Jared is amazed and oddly impressed that there's a bathtub in the kitchen, and he kicks off his sneakers and climbs in it while Chris rummages around in the fridge for something to drink and Steve tries to rustle up some snacks.

"How do you get any privacy to wash?" Jared asks, arms hanging over the side of the tub.

"We don't," Alona says.

"I keep saying we need to hang a curtain," Jensen adds, "but _someone_ keeps putting it off." He shoots a meaningful look at Chris' back.

"He's too short," Steve says, grinning. "Man needs a stepladder."

"I'm stuck," Jared says, flailing. "Someone help me."

Chad climbs in the tub in a misguided attempt to push him out, Jared's cousin grabs his arms, Chris watches impassively, and eventually Jared is freed.

"I'm just gonna stay in here," Chad announces, sprawling in the tub. He waves an arm imperiously. "Jared. Peel me a grape."

"Peel your own, you Roman motherfucker," Jared says. He giggles. "What if I turned the water on?"

Chad makes a point of leaning back against the taps to block Jared's hands, but Jared is already distracted by Chris' record player and the rows of records leaning against the wall, and Jensen takes the opportunity to play Patti Smith's _Easter_ for him, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. A couple nights ago he had to suffer them playing Devo on repeat, and while Jensen might like the band in small doses, one side of their album played over and over for four hours is too much. At the time he found himself actually missing the crazy girl who threw records at Chris in their kitchen. He could have sent her over.

Jensen takes his camera with him that night, for no other reason than he feels like it, and when he gets the film developed a few days later, he discovers that his efforts yielded some terrible pictures from CBGB's and a couple of nice ones from the Kiev. The one of Rachel half-asleep against Steve's shoulder is particularly cute. There’s one of Steve and Chris sitting in the bathtub making bunny ears behind each other's heads, and also evidence that someone else must have grabbed the camera at some point, because there are two photos of Jensen and Jared sitting on the fire escape. Jared is talking in both of them, no surprise there, and he looks intent while Jensen looks absorbed. Jensen's cigarette is dangling forgotten between his fingers. Jared is reaching for him in one of the photos, making a point or emphasizing something or just excitedly talking with his hands.

Jensen sticks some of the pictures on the wall in the apartment's common room, including one of him and Jared. Alona draws a heart over their heads on the photo. Danneel comes over one day to get Jensen's opinion on a dress she's sewing, and she makes him tell her everything about the boy who talked to him on the fire escape while the sun rose over Brooklyn and Queens and the East River.

"You never tell me anything," she says with mock accusation. "You spend all this time with this cute boy and you tell me _nothing_."

"It's because you don't like CBGB's."

"It's a hole."

"You would've met him by now if you'd come with us," Jensen continues, igoring her. "I told you he wanted me to come see his band, didn't I? It was the same night as Felicia's birthday party."

"You didn't tell me he _liked you_." She lifts the hem of the dress. She brought it over in a paper bag, pinned and taped together but only half-sewn. Why she thinks she needs Jensen's opinion he can't guess, but she likes to include him in her clothes-making schemes. "Shorter? Longer?"

"It looks like a sack," he says. "And so what if he _likes me_."

"It's a sack dress. It's supposed to look like this. I think I need to cinch the hem some more. Where's Alona? I need another girl's opinion."

Jensen snickers. Alona is even less fashion-conscious than he is. Her wardrobe consists almost entirely of jeans and t-shirts (half of them stolen from her brother) and Chuck Taylors. The best you can hope for is that what she's wearing is clean.

"Felicia said it should be shorter," Danneel continues. "I'm not sure." She carefully unpins the shoulders of the dress and shrugs out of it. "It matters that he _likes you_ because he's in high school and he's going home at the end of the summer and you'll break his cute teenage heart."

"Why aren't you doing fashion design?" Jensen asks, to change the subject.

"I don't want to." She folds up the dress and puts it back in the paper bag, then sits on the couch next to Jensen. She pats his knee. "Don't break his cute teenage heart."

"You talk like we're dating."

Danneel points at the photo. "Look at his face, Jensen. It's only a matter of time." She looks at him like she’s considering something. "How do you feel about him?"

Jensen shrugs. "He's cute. Danny, come on. I'm not that special. He talks to anyone who will listen to him for more than ten minutes. That night," he waves at the wall of photos, "was the night after his first gig, so he was all excited about that, and he'd spent the whole night drinking and eating. You know how people get when they're drunk. He's friendly with everyone. It's not just me."

"It is just you. Look at _your_ face. And don't tell me you were just being polite. I know that face. That's a Tom face."

"Tom was a mistake."

A persistent, buff, incredibly pretty mistake, but a mistake all the same. Quiet guy, good kisser, good sense of humor, attached at the hip to his best friend, and constitutionally incapable of monogamy. Jensen was smitten anyway.

"Tom wasn't seventeen," he continues. "I'm not hot for a high schooler."

"If you say so." She pulls out the dress again. "I don't think I like the color. It should be cream. Then I can paint it. I wish I hadn't already cut the fabric."

"Would it fit Felicia? Green's her color."

"Listen to you!" Danneel says, delighted. "Demonstrating an understanding of color!"

"Shut up." He punches her shoulder. "I know all about color."

"On paper, sure. But on people? You're learning! I'm so proud." She grabs his face and kisses him on the mouth, then releases him and stands up. "Don't be a dick, okay?"

"What are you talking about? I'm never – oh. You mean with Jared."

"That's exactly what I mean." Suddenly she giggles. "He's in high school! You have the hots for a high schooler. You _perv_. That's so funny."

"Yeah, yeah. Go stuff Felicia in your dress. I'll see you later."

She blows him a kiss on her way out.

"I don't have the hots for a high schooler," Jensen mutters to himself, but even as he says it, he's not entirely sure it's true.

And four nights later, when Jared catches him in the hallway outside Steve's apartment and kisses him, he knows he was telling himself a lie.

Jared is not a good kisser, but Jared is also seventeen, and Jensen didn't know what he was doing at that age either. He realizes he's more than happy to help Jared learn how to do it right.

Chris side-eyes him a little, but Jensen just shrugs him off. Danneel was definitely right about one thing – Jared's going home at the end of the summer. Jensen can be his summer fling. It will be fun.

* * *

Jensen has done some dumb things while drunk, and a lot of the time, while they're happening, he doesn't care. And he doesn't care now, because it's very hard to argue when he's leaning against the wall in one of the bathroom stalls at CBGB's, Jared on his knees on the disgusting floor, sucking Jensen's cock with more enthusiasm than skill. It doesn't matter that in a couple of months Jensen will be starting his senior year of art school and Jared will be back in Texas to finish high school. It doesn't matter that they're both hammered. It doesn't matter that there are much more pleasant places to get head than in the grotty bathroom of a noisy club, the sounds of guys pissing and scoring drugs all around them. Nothing matters except for Jensen's cock in Jared's mouth, Jensen's hands in Jared's shaggy hair, Jensen's burning, blinding desire to take Jared home and fuck him stupid.

"Hnng," he grinds through his teeth, biting his lip, wanting desperately to come so he can either return the favor or haul Jared back to the apartment. And then he is coming, so relieved he can't even see straight.

"Okay?" Jared asks hopefully, looking up at him.

"Yeah," Jensen breathes, "okay. More than okay." He pulls Jared to his feet, grabs his shoulder, and hisses "Come home with me so I can fuck you" in his ear.

"Uh. What? Wait. You wanna fuck me?" Jared leans back just enough to look Jensen in the face. Jensen's eyes cross with the effort of bringing him into focus. "Yeah. Yeah. Let's go." He steps back, stumbles into the stall's swinging doors, grabs at Jensen's arm. "Shit. I'm really drunk."

"'S’okay. Me too." Jensen stuffs himself back into his jeans, zips up, and pulls Jared's face close for hungry, biting kiss.

Alona waylays them briefly on their way out of the club, but finally they're free, stepping into the humid, trash-scented summer night, turning towards home.

The walk doesn't really sober up either one of them, even though they're both almost running by the time they reach the building. A cop car with its lights spinning comes screaming down the street. Jared slows, even though rushing home to get laid isn't a crime, and Jensen laughs at him as the car turns a corner. Jensen fumbles for his house key for longer than he wants, but the way Jared attacks him once they're inside makes up for any delay. They stumble into the bedroom, kick the door shut, and fall onto the mattress, kissing and biting at each other's lips and pulling at each other's clothes.

Jensen has his hand down Jared's jeans when Jared grabs his arm, stopping him, and says "I haven't, um, I mean, you're – you're – you'll be the first."

"You're a virgin?" Jensen asks, more to clarify than for any other reason. This, too, doesn't matter.

"Yeah," Jared practically whispers. He ducks his head. Jensen laughs, unable to stop himself. "It's not funny."

"No, sorry, it's not, but it is, I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you."

"Yeah, you are."

"No I'm not. I swear." Jensen kisses him to shut him up. "I'm laughing at me. I'll be careful."

And he tries, he really does, but he's in a hurry and Jared's in a hurry and drunken sex, especially when one of you is having sex for the first time, is not always the best sex. It's awkward and Jared accidentally elbows Jensen in the stomach and Jensen can't keep his balance and Jared comes quicker than either one of them would’ve liked, and it's all over ridiculously fast.

"Fuck," Jensen breathes, flopping forward onto Jared's chest. He presses his face into Jared's neck, smelling sweat and smoke and beer and, under that, bedsheets that need to be washed. He lifts his head. Jared looks stunned. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I think. I don't know."

"Wanna try again in the morning? Maybe after we sober up some? I can do better."

"Yeah. Yeah. That'd be good." Jared smiles slowly, his whole face lighting up. Jensen kisses him, partly because it's hard not to want to and partly to distract himself from the fact that he just had sex with a high schooler, and not only that, he wants to have sex with him again.

Somewhere, Danneel is laughing at Jensen and warning him – again – not to break Jared's heart.

He doesn't care.

He pulls away from Jared's mouth, pulls out of Jared's ass, and rolls off him. He's tired and empty and has to pee and he just wants to pass out and sleep through his inevitable hangover.

"In the morning," he mumbles.

"What in the morning?" Jared asks.

"We'll do it again and go out for pancakes."

"Okay." Jared rolls into Jensen and throws an arm across his chest. Jensen pushes him off, rolls off the bed, and stumbles into the bathroom. He closes his eyes while he has a piss, which is a bit of a mistake when he opens them again and gets a head rush. He stumbles back into the bedroom, hitting the doorframe in the process, and falls on the bed. He's awake just long enough to drag the sheet over himself and Jared, so they're not sprawled naked across the bed. Danneel would laugh at him for that too, for his weird sense of propriety.

Jared settles against him again and in almost no time Jensen is fast asleep.

In the morning he has a hangover, to no one's surprise. He guesses Jared does too, but he's sprawled all over Jensen and snoring almost loud enough to drown out the city, and Jensen doesn't have the heart to either push him off or wake him up. So he goes back to sleep.

Jared wakes him up sometime later, shaking Jensen's shoulder and announcing that he's hungry, he's dying of thirst, he's not that hungover, and they should go out for food. Jensen groans, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep but unable to deny the fact that he's naked and sweaty and would like to wash and put on some clothes and feel like a human being again.

There's no one else in the apartment, and Jensen wonders if Alona and Chris even came home last night, or if they both found somewhere else to sleep so he and Jared could have some privacy. Not that it matters, because he wouldn't have cared either way.

"I have six bucks," Jared says, appearing behind Jensen fully dressed. "That should feed both of us."

Jensen's stomach mounts a weak protest at the thought of food. "I'm gonna pass." He suddenly remembers that Jared is staying in Queens and will eventually have to go back. "Do you have enough to get home?" 

"Yeah. I got a couple subway tokens. Corey and I worked out a system. He'll make something up about me until I get back to the house. He calls home and makes excuses for us when we break curfew. I don't know why my aunt and uncle believe him and not me, but there you go." He shrugs.

Jensen is impressed at Jared's nonchalance. When he was seventeen he couldn't get away with lying to his parents so blithely. Of course, when he was seventeen he was still spending his summers at home, working at a record store, getting his portfolio together for art school and going to see whatever bands came through Dallas. He wasn't sneaking into Manhattan to see punk shows and get drunk and blow guys in bathrooms.

And then take those guys out for breakfast.

Jared holds out his hand, a pile of crumpled bills in his palm. "Come on. You said you'd fuck me in the morning and we'd go out for pancakes. I wanna eat first."

Jensen is tempted to take Jared to Chris' diner, but he doesn't know if Chris is working today and if they can cadge some free food – or at least free coffee - out of him. But Jensen also wants to walk some and clear his head, and there's a diner over on 4th Street, near NYU, that serves breakfast all day, and the chances of him running into someone he knows there are pretty slim.

Most of his friends don't venture too far into NYU territory, except to look through the record stores and weird little shops on Bleeker Street. There's a coffeehouse Danneel likes on Carmine, and every so often Chris wants to see a jazz band, but otherwise it's not really their scene. NYU students are, by and large, a different breed even from the students at Cooper Union, and being among these private-school kids makes Jensen feel broke and useless in a way that reminds him uncomfortably of high school.

But the weather is actually nice and some of the area is pretty, and it's worth being here to get pancakes at all hours.

Jared chatters away as they walk, and Jensen wants to listen but his brain hasn't kicked in yet, so most of it goes in one ear and out the other. He's paying enough attention to recognize that it isn't anything important, or anything Jared really needs a response to. He likes the sound of Jared's voice directed at him, the fact that Jared is talking to him more important than whatever Jared's saying.

They get a booth by the window at the diner, order coffee and orange juice and enough breakfast to take care of Jared's six bucks, plus four Jensen found in his wallet.

After a large glass of orange juice, two cups of coffee, a lot of water, and a pancake, Jensen feels like a person again.

Jared is talking about his grandfather's ranch, spending summers there when he and his brother and sister were little, and eating breakfast with the cowboys.

"So much bacon," he says. "Pigs ran in fear. My grandma would make these huge stacks of pancakes and cover them with Karo. My sister always ate so fast she'd get Karo in her hair." He stuffs a forkful of pancake in his mouth. "My brother would tease her about being a little piggy," he says with his mouth full.

"How are you not hungover?" Jensen says. It's completely unrelated to anything Jared has said since they woke up, but he can't stop himself.

"I was. But I was hungry. Now I'm not." He grins. "I don't have to be back at my aunt and uncle's until five, probably. I should be back for dinner."

"They don't care where you are?"

Jared shrugs and cuts another piece of pancake. "They trust me. They trust Corey. They know we're not getting in trouble."

_You're blowing boys at CBGB's and letting them take you home and fuck you_ , Jensen thinks. _Sounds like trouble to me_. "That's because your cousin's lying to them," is all he says.

"I know." Jared's eyebrows jump up and down. "I'm not getting in trouble, though. No one's gonna have to bail me out of jail. Besides, I'm with you. What's gonna happen?"

"After breakfast we're gonna go back to my place and have better sex than we had last night." Jensen smiles as innocently as he can manage and sips his coffee. Jared grins wide enough to split his face.

"How'd it feel to be someone's first?" he asks.

Jensen eats some pancake while he thinks about it. "Weird. Kinda cool. It's a lotta responsibility, though. You're my first... first, and I want it to be good for you. I'm a better fuck sober, I promise."

"I thought it was okay. I'm sorry I elbowed you in the stomach."

"Don't worry about it. I briefly dated a guy my sophomore year and we fell off the couch twice in mid-fuck. He needed a lot of room. We didn't last very long."

In retrospect, "dated" is probably a generous word for what they did. "Fucked around a lot" is a much better description. The guy was cute and a good kisser and had very deft, strong, sculptor's hands, but he needed a lot of flat space for sex. That wouldn't be a problem except that he didn't actually like to fuck on a mattress. Besides, he wasn't interested in any kind of relationship, and Jensen was.

"I don't think your couch is big enough for us," Jared says.

"We could find out. Just maybe not today. There's always a chance Chris or Alona will come home before we're finished, and I'll never live that down."

"Did that ever happen to you?"

"Not me, no. Danneel's walked in on her roommate like four times, though. I think Felicia's girlfriend does it on purpose."

"Huh." Jared finishes his coffee. "Why would she want someone to interrupt her?"

"I think she's an exhibitionist and she can convince Felicia they're gonna have enough privacy. I don't like her, but I don't have to deal with her. The girlfriend, I mean. I like Felicia. Are you done? Do you want more coffee?"

Jared looks down at his empty plate. "I guess I could lick the plate," he says thoughtfully. "I'm good. We can go."

Breakfast and tip cleans them both out and they walk back to the apartment slightly slower than they walked to breakfast, in order to digest. This time Jared talks about NYU, and how he thinks maybe he'll apply in the fall so his parents will let him move to New York for good.

Jensen doesn't know anything about NYU, aside from the fact that if Jared goes there he'll have to revise his opinion of the place, so he doesn't have much to add. Jared admits he's still working it out.

The apartment is still empty, for which Jensen is grateful but not surprised. It's really too hot to hang around the place, and he knows Chris and Alona have better places to be. He shuts the bedroom door most of the way and peels off his jeans.

He learns a very important thing about Jared this time around: the boy is a noisy fuck. He moans loudly and with abandon, he pants like he's just run a marathon, and he talks. Some of it is fairly general, "That feels good" and "Do that again" and that kind of thing, but some of it is actual conversation. "What was it like for you?" and "Can I do this?" and "What are we gonna do next time?" and, oddly, "Someone's playing the Beach Boys".

He also learns that Jared is eager and receptive and wants to find out not only what he's going to like, but what Jensen likes as well. It's still not the best sex Jensen has ever had, but it's better than the night before, and afterwards both he and Jared are quite satisfied.

"Shit," Jared breathes, after Jensen has pulled out and flopped down on the mattress next to him. "That was a lot better. You were right."

"Told you." Jensen can't help feeling just a little bit pleased with himself. He's never had to introduce someone to sex before, and he wants to do it right and demonstrate his knowledge and skill. And last night really wasn't indicative of his skill. "I'm glad no one else was home. I just hope the neighbors are out. Shit. They probably heard us last night."

"Was I too loud?" Jared sounds worried. Jensen turns his head and Jared even looks concerned. "People tell me I talk too much sometimes."

"It's okay. Don't worry about it." Jensen reaches over and brushes Jared's hair out of his eyes.

"Can we, um, can we do it again? Like, before I have to go?"

"Today?"

"Yeah. It was, um, it was... I really like you. I really like fucking you." It comes out in a rush and Jared actually blushes. Jensen blinks, surprised, and then grins and kisses Jared's mouth.

"We've only done it twice," Jensen says, unsuccessfully stifling the urge to laugh at Jared's embarrassment. He knew Jared liked him. Everyone knew. Jared didn't even try to hide it. And there should be no shame in admitting you like having sex with someone, even if you've never had sex with anyone else. "You don't have any basis for comparison."

"So? I can still know I like it."

"That's true. I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you." Jared looks skeptical. "Okay, I'm laughing at you." He kisses Jared again, and this time Jared kisses back.

Jared's mouth tastes like pancake syrup and coffee, and for once he's in no hurry to do anything other than kiss. They just lie there for a while, naked and sweaty, the sound of someone playing Beach Boys records incongruously coming through the open window. Jensen is overheated but content, and there's something very comfortable about lying here kissing this boy who likes sex with him so much.

Eventually they pull away and Jensen rolls off the mattress and into the bathroom to wash off. Jared follows and they both get dressed halfway – jeans but no shirts – and sit on the couch and drink water and talk about school and New York and music and Jensen's friends, who seem to be turning into Jared's friends as well. Jensen wants to go sit outside on the stoop, because it really is too hot to be indoors, but Jared resists so strongly that Jensen gives up.

In the sober light of afternoon, Jensen can look at himself more rationally and at least try to contemplate the fact that this boy, this seventeen-year-old Texan who will be going home in a couple of months to finish high school – this boy seems more and more interested in him, and Jensen is more and more interested in return.

Danneel and Chris are going to have a field day when they find out.

Jensen realizes that even sober, even thinking rationally, he doesn't care.

He knows full well that he and Jared are at different points in their lives, and he knows there's a chance that Jared could go home in August and change his mind about NYU, or have his mind changed for him. But Jensen has also learned, in the short time they've known each other, that Jared already knows what he wants, and that he's determined enough to figure out a way to get it.

And, apparently, what he wants is Jensen.

It's an ego-boost, if Jensen is completely honest with himself. It's exciting to know he holds that kind of attraction. But it's possible Jared is so interested in him because he's in New York, which is so different from anything Jared knows, and if they met anywhere else, or Jensen was anyone else, last night never would have happened. It could be entirely circumstantial.

But Jensen isn't sure. And half an hour later, with Jared's legs wrapped around his waist and his hands in Jared's hair and his tongue in Jared's mouth, his hips thrusting slowly and shallowly into Jared's body, Jared's words lost down his throat – Jensen is absolutely, completely certain that it isn't circumstantial. He’s certain that Jared is here because he wants Jensen, because he likes Jensen, because he's making up his mind to come back next summer so he can stay with Jensen for good.

There is a tiny part of Jensen that isn't sure it's such a good idea to get involved with this boy. Jared's still in high school. But high schoolers graduate and grow up, and most of Jensen wants to follow whatever path this relationship seems to be on.

Besides, he already told himself he was happy to be Jared's summer fling. It's no effort to stretch that fling into something longer-lasting.

Jared grabs at Jensen's shoulders and tenses up when he comes, and Jensen waits for him to finish before letting himself go. He kisses Jared's mouth, his jaw, his throat, listens to him catch his breath, and murmurs, "Third time's the charm."

"I don't wanna go," Jared says.

"You have to."

"I know, but I don't want to. I wanna stay here. With you."

"You can't." Jensen pulls out and sits up, offers Jared a hand to pull him up as well.

"I know. But I want to."

"But you can't."

"I can call Corey, ask him to make something up - "

"Your aunt and uncle are gonna worry about you. Jared, come on. You can't stay with me forever." He tries for levity. "Chris is gonna be pissed if he has to sleep on the couch, and he's tired of staying with Steve."

Jared sighs. "I can come back tomorrow."

"You can come back any time you want. Gory Alice is playing CBGB's in a couple of days. Get your cousin to make an excuse and you can stay over then."

So a couple of days later, Jared and his cousin are at CBGB's, having somehow convinced the aunt and uncle that neither of them will be home that night. Chad is there as well, but Jensen is learning that with very few exceptions, wherever Jared goes, Chad goes too. Jensen mentioned to Danneel that morning that his cute boy would probably come into the city to see Gory Alice, so she shows up with Felicia in tow.

"I've heard a lot about you," Danneel says to Jared. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"What did you say about me?" he asks Jensen nervously.

"All good things, don't worry. We're gonna get a drink. You want anything?"

"Beer?"

Felicia laughs and pinches his cheek. "You're so cute! You wanna be a little more specific?"

"In a bottle?"

"Oh my god, Jensen, he's adorable. Buyer's choice, huh? You trust us?"

"They trust us," Danneel says. "It's not as if there are a lot of options."

"I guess her girlfriend didn't come," Jensen says, after the girls disappear from view. "Be thankful. She can be a handful."

"They seem nice," Jared offers.

"They are. I should've introduced you to Danny sooner. She's my best friend who isn't Chris and she was really annoyed that she didn't know about you."

"What did you tell her about me?"

"She told you. Good things. You're really friendly and talkative and I like you." _And I'm not going to break your cute teenage heart._ "When the Krays get a gig in the city I'll make her come with me."

"We might! Corey met a guy, he books bands for this place called the Alley. He wants to hear us."

"Jensen!" someone yells from off to his left, cutting him off from saying anything, and Chris and a blonde girl who looks familiar come into view. "You remember Julie, right?"

"Oh, yeah, hi," Jensen says, as memories slide into place. She's a singer and guitarist, which is how she knows Chris, but her style is more folky and acoustic than the music Jensen likes. Julie leans in and kisses him on both cheeks. She smells like grapefruit. "What are you doing down on the Bowery?"

"I came to see Alona's band. He told me I had to." She points at Chris, who grins. "He's broadening my horizons."

"She's a folk singer," Chris tells Jared. "Jared, Julie. Julie, Jared."

"Nice to meet you," Julie says, kissing Jared on both cheeks too. He looks surprised and charmed.

"Well, hello," Chad says, appearing out of nowhere. "I'm Chad."

"And we're gonna find a place to watch the band," Chris announces, pulling Julie away.

"She's a little out of your league," Jensen tells Chad, who just shrugs.

"There will be other girls."

By the end of the night, much to Jensen's surprise, Chad has not only made a friend but actually gone home with her. Both Jared and his cousin are impressed. Jensen has made a friend too – also much to his surprise – a cute English girl with a thick fringe of brown hair, who accidentally hits him in the face while she's dancing. She apologizes profusely and introduces herself as Hayley and admits that she does that kind of thing a lot. He reassures her that it's happened to him before.

"I'm a terrible klutz," she says. "Mum says I get it from Dad's side of the family, and Dad says I get it from hers. It's a terrible superpower. How hard did I hit you?" She reaches for Jensen's face, as if to make sure she didn't break him, and he lets her feel his cheekbone while Jared snickers behind him.

She gives Jensen her last cigarette and her Dad's phone number by way of apology, and says that she's staying with her dad for the summer and she's never been to CBGB's before but she's sticking to the floor and the bathroom is horrifying and she's sweated through her clothes and she's having so much fun she has to come back. Maybe she'll see him again.

"Warn me, so I can wear some padding," he says, and she laughs.

"You're not jealous?" Danneel asks Jared later, when he repeats the story for the rest of Jensen's friends.

"No," he says. "Should I be?"

"She did give your boyfriend her number," Adrianne says.

That's the first time anyone has referred to Jared or Jensen that way, at least in Jensen's hearing. He can't help but smile a little. It doesn't seem to have registered for Jared.

"Yeah, but he's not gonna call her. Are you?" He turns to Jensen, who shrugs.

"Maybe if I need someone to play offense for pickup football," he says. "If she likes this place so much I'll see her again. I won't have to call her."

* * *

Jensen's summer passes in a blur of late nights, late mornings, music, friends, and Jared. The Krays finally get a gig in the city, at the Alley, just as Jared's cousin promised, and Jensen drags as many people as he can get to see them. The band isn't very good, but this particular lineup has only been playing together since June, and a lot of things seem to get in the way of their summer practice. Jensen still congratulates Jared and his cousin – and Chad, who somehow joined the band when Jensen wasn't paying attention – and tells them they sounded good.

"You don't have to lie to them," Chris tells him, while the band is packing up.

"Yes, he does," Danneel says. "You don't want to discourage them this soon."

"They weren't good."

"They're teenagers."

"I knew what I was doing when I was seventeen."

"No you didn't," Alona interrupts, coming in at the end of the conversation. When Chris cocks an eyebrow at her she shrugs nonchalantly and says, "That's what Steve would say."

"You _were_ just as terrible when you were that age," Jensen tells Chris. "You can go now," he tells Alona, who starts shifting impatiently. "If you've got better places to be."

"Places to be, people to do." She grins brightly. Chris barks a laugh. In some ways, Alona is the purest person they know.

Gabe appears to ask if they're staying for the next band. "Y'know," he adds thoughtfully, gesturing at the stage where the Krays are clearing off, "they didn't suck."

"Were you expecting them to?" Jensen asks. Gabe shrugs.

"It's because they're young, right?" Alona asks pointedly. Jared's got a year on her and Adrianne, and yet Gory Alice has played a bunch of places over the summer, to pretty good reception. Gabe just shrugs again.

"They'll learn," Chris says, "if they want to keep going."

Which is exactly what Jared says as they're walking to CBGB's, when Chris tactlessly tells him that the band half sucked. Chad gets huffy and Jared's cousin gets defensive, but Chris stands by his assessment.

"It's true," Jared admits, trying to soothe both of them. "We'll get better."

"You're going home in like a week and a half," Chad points out. "How are we gonna practice without you?"

"You'll send me tapes and I'll practice with them. I don't know. Get a substitute bass player while I'm gone. Maybe I can come back over Christmas break. I'll be back next summer."

"You're going home in a week and a half?" Danneel repeats, glancing at Jensen. He's trying to remember when Jared told him that, or even if Jared told him that. It's not something he's been thinking about, and he'd bet money that Jared hasn't been thinking about it either. Jensen has noticed that Jared is very good about not mentioning things he doesn't want to deal with, and going home – leaving Jensen – is something he very much does not want to deal with.

"Yeah," Jared says, trying for nonchalance. Jensen slings an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close.

"You said one of Corey's friends taped the show," he says, by way of distraction.

"We'll get you all copies," Corey announces. He points to Gabe. "You can have a couple."

"He thinks Gabe's gonna spread them around," Jared whispers to Jensen. "Like to promoters and stuff."

Jensen suddenly, incongruously, remembers the girl from the beginning of the summer, who thought Chris was going to introduce her to Mark Sheppard, and who got so mad when he said he couldn't that she started flinging records at him. Jensen chuckles.

"It's funny, isn't it," Jared says.

"I was thinking about something else," Jensen tells him. "Never mind."

Hayley the uncoordinated English girl literally runs smack into Alona at CBGB's, causing both of them to spill their drinks on each other. Hayley apologizes profusely, of course, and when Jensen appears with a wad of napkins so they can clean themselves up, she tells him she's glad she saw him because she's going home in a few days and should spend the intervening time with her dad. But if Jensen gives her his address, maybe she can send him some records.

"You have to send them to Danneel," he says. "We're afraid to get mail at the apartment. People keep stealing it."

"So give me Danneel's address," Hayley says brightly.

Jensen writes Danneel and Felicia's address on a napkin for her, and she kisses him on the cheek, kisses Alona on the cheek, and vanishes. Ten minutes later she's back with a fresh beer, which she hands to Alona with another apology before vanishing again.

"She's so weird," Alona says. "Cute, though. I hope she sends you some records. I wanna know what they're listening to in England that we can't get here."

Jensen couldn't agree more. The best way of discovering obscure bands he's going to like – besides seeing them live – is always getting a non-local friend to send him some music.

They find Rachel standing against the wall with Rob and Rich. She says sure, Alona can come home with her, and Chris can impose on Steve, so that Jared and Jensen can have the apartment to themselves. Chris doesn't even protest. He had a very productive talk with Kim, who used to write for _Punk_ magazine and now has a recording studio in her loft, so he's in too good of a mood to care about sleeping on Steve's couch. Chad mounts a weak protest, but Jared and Jensen stay at the bar until almost three, and by that time both Chad and Jared's cousin have gotten embroiled in a discussion with Gabe and one of the guys in his band, and have decided to move their conversation somewhere a little more quiet.

Jared wants to put on a record once they get back to the apartment, and doesn't object when Jensen drops _Horses_ on the turntable. They angle the speakers towards the bedrooom and leave the door open. No one else is coming back tonight, and if they want to, they can have sex all over the apartment.

Jensen wants to stick to the bedroom, though, because he's a little drunk and a lot tired and won't want to move after they're done.

"Lie back and think of England," Jared says, laughing, and Jensen can't help but laugh too. "Were we really that bad?"

"No, you were fine. You're not ready for Radio City" - and here Jared laughs again, because punks playing Radio City? With the Rockettes as backup dancers? How ridiculous - "but you weren't bad."

"Really?"

"Really. Would I lie to you?"

"Probably." But Jared grins and tugs at Jensen's t-shirt and sprawls on top of him and kisses him, and that's the end of that conversation.

In the last couple of months Jared has learned that he likes to top, and Jensen is more than happy to lie back and let him. This time is much less awkward than the first time, which involved Jared jamming his knee in uncomfortable places and Jensen accidentally hitting him in the face and Jared losing his balance and landing flat on Jensen's stomach, but as Jensen has said more than once, practice makes perfect.

It's still not perfect, but it's better than it was, and in any case neither of them is going to complain. Jensen likes sex with Jared, with all its awkwardness and hurry and learning curve, and he knows Jared likes sex with him, and after a week and a half they'll have to content themselves with... what? Dirty phone calls? X-rated mail? A lot of fantasies to take the place of actual physical contact, anyway.

"What are you thinking?" Jared asks, having found a good rhythm and gotten into it.

"Nothing," Jensen answers. "Just how much better this is than the first time."

"I know what I'm doing now." Jared's lips twitch into a smile.

"Is that what you think?" Jensen grins, teasing, and Jared laughs.

"That's what your dick thinks."

And that's not a lie.

"That's what _my_ dick thinks," Jared continues, hips pushing a little deeper and a little faster. Jensen swallows a moan, grabs Jared's ass to encourage him. He can hear Patti Smith through the open door. It's the last song on that side of the record. He's not going to get up to flip it, but he wishes the album was longer.

"Record's almost done," Jared murmurs, voice breathless. "We'll have to finish in, in silence."

As if on cue, the downstairs neighbors start yelling at each other. The words are muffled by the floorboards and Jensen's mattress, but the angry tone is clear. At least they'll be too busy arguing to hear Jared and Jensen.

Jared huffs a laugh at the noise, drops a kiss on Jensen's lips, and thrusts deeper, harder, clearly getting close and wanting to come.

"I'm gonna," he pants, "I'm – fuck, Jensen, you're so, you're - "

"Come on," Jensen says, his words harsh in his own ears. He reaches between them to pull on his cock, close himself and still not sure if he wants Jared to come first or if they can climax together.

Jared solves the problem by losing his rhythm, jerkily fucking Jensen to a combined chorus of grunts and moans and a bitten-off cry as he comes.

"Oh fuck," he pants. "Fuck me."

"That's my line," Jensen manages to say. Jared laughs, or tries to, then pushes himself up until he's sitting between Jensen's splayed thighs, his cock still buried in Jensen's body, his long skinny fingers wrapping around Jensen's cock and starting to stroke. Jensen watches the intent look on Jared's flushed face until he feels his back arching, his body trembling, and his climax shooting down his spine.

"Fuck," Jared repeats. Jensen chuckles because of course, what else was that? "You're so hot. You're – can a guy be pretty?"

"Sure, why not? You think I'm pretty?" Jensen grins.

"Yeah. I think you're pretty. And hot. Pretty hot."

Jared pulls out, flops down onto the mattress, and rolls half on top of Jensen. "I love you so much," he murmurs against Jensen's lips. "I really, really do. I don't wanna go home."

Jensen finds himself saying "You don't have a choice" without even thinking about it, and wants to smack himself. He doesn't want to have that conversation now. They have a week and a half to enjoy each other's company, and he doesn't want to think about the upcoming end of summer either.

Although the end of summer also means the beginning of his senior year, which means his senior thesis project, and he's genuinely excited about that. He'll talk to his advisor about it once school starts up again.

"I know," Jared sighs. He shifts enough to put his head on Jensen's shoulder. Jensen drapes an arm around him. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"You wanna listen to the other side of _Horses_?"

"No. I want you to talk to me."

"About what?"

"I don't know. School. What you're gonna do your senior year. Tell me about bands I've never heard of. Tell me about, I dunno, tell me about art. The Metropolitan Museum. The, uh, are there other museums? Or galleries. Artists. Designers. Whatever. Patti Smith."

Jensen doesn't have to see his face to know that Jared's grinning. Jensen's love for Patti Smith and her poetry and her music and her band is no secret. Jared has never tried to stop him when he went off on a tangent, and Jensen never felt as if Jared didn't want to learn about her or listen to her abums or try to see her live.

"Let me turn off the record player first," he says, moving his arm and gently lifting Jared's head so he can slide off the mattress. He pulls on his boxer shorts while he's up, then switches off the turntable, puts the album in its sleeve, and climbs back into bed. Jared has put on his underwear in the meantime. It's hot in the room, even with the window up all the way and the door open to catch any cross breeze, but Jared rolls into Jensen's side, throws an arm across his chest, rests his head on Jensen's shoulder, and says "I just want to hear your voice when I fall asleep. Is that cheesy? That sounds really cheesy."

Jensen ruffles his hair, tries to think of what to say. He's not that awake himself, but if Jared wants him to talk, he'll talk.

"Did I tell you about the first time I took Danneel to see the Patti Smith Group?" he asks.

"I don't know."

"It was the beginning of my second year, her first. She didn't know who Patti was. They were playing Max's Kansas City...."

* * *

"Don't wanna go," Jared murmurs, his words drunkenly sliding together. He's back in the city for the last time before he goes home. His cousin is out with his own friends, probably making excuses for the adults who care, so it's just Jared and Chad and – Jensen counts bottles – more beer than is advisable. But it's the last time he'll see Jared for a year, and Jared is having a hard time with it.

Gory Alice played their last summer show at CBGB's, much to Jared's delight, and now Alona and Rachel are squashed around a table with Jared and Jensen and Chris and Danneel. Chad has vanished, probably so he can put the moves on the cute bartender, who is good at ignoring him. Kim has joined them, much to Jensen's surprise, and she and Alona have been talking albums for the past half hour, with occasional interruptions from Chris. Jared has been sucking down beer like a man who just crawled out of a desert.

"Gotta piss," he says now, pushing against Jensen's arm. "Lemme out."

"You need help?" Jensen asks, only half kidding, as he watches Jared push his chair back and wobble upright.

"No, 'm good."

"You're gonna need help carrying him home," Chris says, after Jared has staggered off.

"I know." Jensen finishes his beer and extracts a cigarette from the pack lying on the table. They're Rachel's, of course, and there are only two left. He knows he needs to be buying his own, but if his friends are willing to let him bum theirs, why wouldn't he take advantage? He taps the cigarette on the table, lights it, and turns his head to blow a stream of smoke into the close air of the bar.

It's hot and humid inside, just as it's hot and humid outside, and he's not exactly looking forward to going back to the apartment. He's spent some quality time over the summer at various movie theaters, mostly for the air conditioning. Alona hauled a fan out from Brighton Beach, where her family lives, but it doesn't do much against an oppressive city summer, in an apartment that wasn't designed with any care for its inhabitants. And he and Jared can't sit on the stoop and make out.

"It's gonna take two of us to keep him upright," Chris continues. Jensen blinks at him, confused.

"What?" 

"When your boy passes out." Chris nods in the direction of the bathroom. "Unless you think you can throw him over your shoulder and get him home that way."

"He'll be fine. The bathroom stink will wake him right up."

Chris just shrugs.

"Now I need to get out," Kim says across the table. Danneel obligingly pulls her chair in so Kim can get around her. "Come see me... not tomorrow, but the next day," she says to Alona and Rachel. "Bring Adrianne over around one."

"Bring me where?" Adrianne asks, suddenly appearing over Danneel's shoulder.

"Kim's gonna record our album," Alona says.

"I thought you went home," Jensen tells her.

"I got waylaid," Adrianne says. "Cute boys wanna buy me drinks and tell me how hot I am." She grins.

"So you saw Chad."

"Thankfully, no. Is that an empty seat?" She points to Kim's chair and when no one says anything, squeezes behind Danneel to sit in it.

"Day after tomorrow," Kim tells her. "Come by at one. We'll talk."

"Roger wilco." She gives Kim a thumbs-up. Kim blows kisses all around and leaves.

"Y'all want something?" Danneel asks the table. "Since I'm up."

Rachel just wants a Coke and Chris needs a fresh beer. Danneel tells Jensen she'll keep an eye on Jared if she sees him.

It's another twenty minutes before Jared reappears, flushed and sweaty from the beer and the crowd but at least still conscious.

"Maybe we should go," Jensen murmurs in his ear.

"Don't wanna," Jared protests.

"Back to the apartment."

"I saw Rob an', um, um, shit, Dick the Dick." His words are slower when he's drunk, his drawl stronger. Jensen finds it sexy despite himself.

"Who?"

"Speight," Chris says. Alona snickers into her glass. Adrianne giggles.

"'Dick the Dick'?"

"That's what I called him." Chris shrugs, unconcerned.

"You're not wrong," Rachel adds.

Jensen likes him, but Jensen's also not in a band with him. Jensen's also pretty sure that he and Rachel have some kind of history.

"Him," Jared says. "Bought me a beer." He holds up a bottle.

"I think you've had enough," Jensen tells him, reaching for it. Jared manages to angle away from him long enough to tip it up to his lips and drain it.

"I'm never going home," he says with finality. "Gonna stay here and, and wipe tables."

"They can't pay you enough to get them clean," Rachel says, picking at a sticker advertising a band Jensen's never heard of.

"Hold your brushes while you paint," Jared goes on, not paying attention.

"Sit around and be cute," Adrianne adds.

"Yeah. Be cute." He slowly bats his eyelashes at her and she laughs.

"You could probably get work as an artist's model," Danneel says.

"Don't encourage him," Jensen tells her, suddenly tired. He loves his friends but he wants to take Jared and go home. He wants to be alone with his boyfriend.

His boyfriend who's going to pass out right at the table in ten minutes. Jensen can see him start to droop.

"Come on," he says. "Let's go back to my place."

"Not yet." Jared shakes his head.

"You don't want to be alone with your boyfriend?" Danneel asks.

Jensen watches the idea swim into Jared's brain and make itself at home.

"Okay," he says. "Yeah." He pulls himself upright. 

"You sure you don't need help?" Chris asks.

"No, we're good," Jensen tells him. He takes Jared's arm. "Come on. Home where the heart is."

By the time they get back to the apartment, Jared is stumbling and Jensen is just praying he stays conscious long enough to climb the steps, and that he doesn't puke on the floor. Jensen has a dim memory of a party where he himself very nearly horked in the bathtub, and was saved from that indignity by Danneel steering him into the bathroom at the last minute.

Jared doesn't puke, but he does almost pass out trying to pee.

"Don't wanna go home," he mumbles into Jensen's neck, once they're sprawled half-naked on the mattress. "Wanna stay with you."

"I know," Jensen says. "I wish you could stay too. You'll come back."

"Next summer. Winter. Maybe." He lifts his head. His eyes are half-closed, his face flushed. "I wanna – can we -" He kisses Jensen's mouth. It's a terrible kiss, sloppy and wet and unfocused, the kiss of a horny boy who's had way too much to drink, but Jensen kisses back anyway. Jared's completely incapable of getting it up, and Jensen knows because he's been in that position before, but neither of them care.

And then Jared passes out, his face pressed into Jensen's neck and his breath hot and damp on Jensen's skin, and Jensen strokes his back and lets himself fall asleep too.

It's not the last night together that he would have planned, but he'll take it.

* * *

September comes with an influx of money from Jensen's parents, an entire day spent hauling stuff and organizing his studio space at school, and a calendar grid drawn on the wall of the apartment with a Magic Marker, days blank so he and Chris and Alona can plan three months at a time. He pins pieces of paper to the wall to mark off assignments due, meetings with professors and his advisor, birthdays, band practice, gigs, and even a tour, when Chris' band gets a ten-day trip around the northeast.

Danneel is impressed. She adds little notes of her own: "Tell Danneel she looks good", "Be nice to Chris", "Cook your own food", "Do laundry", "Tell Alona she's cute".

"Thanks, Mom," Jensen says dryly.

"It's only because I love you," she says, grinning. "Should I add 'Call your boyfriend' too?"

"You don't have to. He keeps calling me."

They're always short conversations, fifteen minutes at most, usually in the mornings when Jared knows Jensen will still be home. Jensen has already gotten four letters, one even written on the plane Jared took back to Texas.

Even those little talks are enough to put Jensen in a good mood for the rest of the day. Not that he really needs them – he's a senior now, finishing out his degree, planning his senior thesis project, looking forward to the rest of his life. He feels like he's just tying up loose ends before he can graduate and be free, before Jared can graduate and move in with him. It's very exciting.

His social life isn't even suffering. There are still bands to hear and friends to see and places to go and late-night conversations to have and parties to attend. He's bad with money but he knows he won't starve, if for no other reason than Chris works at a diner and brings him and Alona leftovers. He's not getting a lot of sleep, but he can sleep when he's old.

He misses Jared, and he knows Jared misses him, but they talk on the phone and write to each other. Jared sends Jensen a badly-recorded tape of him learning how to play the guitar, saying, "I don't want to be the Krays' bass player forever". Jensen sends Jared little sketches of the Pits at CBGB's and his studio space at school, of Danneel and Gory Alice, of Chris, and even the two of them, little X-rated sketches drawn from memory and fantasy.

They're very sketchy, these drawings, but clear enough – Jared on his knees, sucking Jensen off. Jensen repaying the favor. Jensen fucking Jared from behind. Jared on his back. Jensen on his back. The two of them on the couch, in the bathtub, leaning against the bedroom wall. More than once Jensen needs to take himself in hand when he's done, because the mental images he's conjuring up for Jared make him hard as well.

Danneel catches him at it one day when she drops by his studio space to say hi and ask his advice about something she's working on. He's sitting at the desk trying to finish a little drawing of him and Jared in bed when she appears over his shoulder and says hello, startling him into scraping a line straight across the sketch.

"Bitch," he mutters, but she just laughs.

"What are you working on?" she asks. "That doesn't look like a class assignment."

"It's for Jared."

"Is it." She grabs the sketch and steps away to examine it. "This is from memory, right? You're not using actual models to reenact your sex life, are you?" She glances around his space, no doubt looking for any wooden models Jensen might have posed in compromising situations.

"You know someone who wants to volunteer? Give me that." He reaches for the sketch, but Danneel dances away from his hand.

"This is terrible. I can't tell who either of these boys is. Besides, there's a big line straight through it. Is that some kind of commentary on love and modern art?"

"The heat death of the universe. Give it back."

She hands it over. "You really are stuck on him, aren't you." It's not a question, but Jensen wouldn't have to answer even if it was. "What happens when he graduates?"

"He moves to New York." Jensen crumples up the drawing and throws it at the trash can. "What did you think? Do you want something, or did you come up here just to pester me?"

"I need some advice. I'm in the middle of a painting and it's just not working and I can't tell what's wrong and I need someone to look at it whose opinion I trust. Today that's you."

"I hope it's a design question. I know how you feel about my sense of color." Jensen grins despite himself.

"What sense of color?" Danneel grins back. "If you can tear yourself away from your dirty pictures I'll show you what I've done so far."

So he follows her back to her own studio space to look at her work and express an opinion and offer advice. He's flattered she asked, because Danneel is not short on talented, opinionated classmates, and his interests lie more in design and layout than painting. He's spent a couple of years doing flyers and the occasional album cover for Gory Alice, Chris and Steve's various bands, and even the Pits, and likes to think he's learned as much from that as he has from his more formal classes.

But painting? Fine art? It's not as silly as Danneel asking his opinion on clothes, but it's not where his skills are. But maybe that's one of the reasons she wants his advice.

Among the clutter on the desk in her studio space is a folded-together mock-up that looks like the next issue of her zine _Doom Pastry_. It's a fairly new thing for her, this zine, but she's put out three issues already and people seem to like it. Jared took some copies with him when he went home in August, and Danneel has already asked Jensen to mail one or two to England, if Hayley ever comes through and sends him some records. Jensen quite surprisingly got a letter from London a week ago, the blue airmail envelope containing a Union Jack patch and a note written on flimsy paper apologizing because albums are expensive to ship in such a way that they don't break in transit, but she had an idea and was working on something.

There was no return address on the envelope, other than "The Center of the Universe, Great Britain", so Jensen is waiting for something else to arrive with a clue as to where he might send a response.

He seems to have acquired an English penpal. It's unexpected, but fun so far. He sewed the patch onto his jean jacket.

Now he flips through Danneel's mocked-up zine. The ones he's most familiar with are music and poetry zines, although there's a weird little science fiction one out of San Antonio that Jared has mentioned in his letters. _Doom Pastry_ is all about comic books and feminism and DIY fashion. The mock-up in his hands is full of penciled comments and pasted-in drawings, with "Contributors!" scrawled across the front in bright green marker.

"You wanna contribute something?" Danneel asks him, noticing his interest.

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Draw me a picture of your cute little boyfriend in a cape, beating back the suburban forces of convention. This issue isn't X-rated, though, so you'll have to keep the sexy bits to a minimum."

"Who else is in it?"

"Me, obviously. Felicia. Her terrible girlfriend. I think they're breaking up, by the way."

"Good."

"I don't know about that. I don't think it's really what Felicia wants. Rachel wrote me a thing about being a girl in a band. You could illustrate that. You'll be the only boy in it. Oh, you know what? Maybe I'll do a harem issue. I'll get some guys to contribute and it will be me and my harem of little art school boys. You can do something for that." She grins brightly. When Jensen doesn't respond, she continues "You don't want to be in my harem? You and Chris and Gabe and Steve and Jared?"

"You don't even like Gabe. Besides, he's not an art school boy. Neither are Chris and Steve."

"I'll recruit some, never fear."

Jensen never does contribute anything to that particular issue, but when it comes out he sends Jared a copy anyway, with a little ink drawing of Jared as a musical superhero, wearing a cape and carrying a guitar. Alona gets her hands on the picture before he can send it, and her begging and pleading leads to a whole series of drawings, all of Jensen's singer and musician friends with microphones and instruments and superhero outfits of decreasingly traditional design. He even draws Kim, her arms full of albums and magazines, a typewriter on her head, and Danneel and Felicia wielding paintbrushes and, in Danneel's case, a needle and thread.

He's not sure how the one of Danneel makes its way to Professor Ferris, his senior thesis advisor, and he's not sure why she likes it, except that she does. It's already the beginning of November and he should have made more progress on his senior project than he has, but it's been more difficult than he thought it would be to come up with a project he likes enough to build a show around.

"I don't think a series of unconventional superheroes is the right idea," Professor Ferris says, "or the best demonstration of your skills and vision, but this is a good design. As a print it's a little too Lichtenstein, and silkscreen variations are too Warhol." That was one of Jensen's earlier ideas, because there's something about silkscreening that he really enjoys. "But have you considered unconventional redesigns of conventional things?"

"Not really," he admits. "My roommate keeps telling me I should turn all my band flyers into real art. But they're _flyers_. They work for what they are, but they're not _art_."

"What makes you say that? Why can't practical things be artistically designed? Why can't art be put to practical use?" She looks at him consideringly. "Why are you here, Jensen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you apply to Cooper Union? Why did you come to New York?"

_Patti Smith_ , he thinks.

"Think about it," Professor Ferris goes on. "Come back in a week and we'll talk about why you're here and what you're doing for your senior thesis. You need to be working on it."

Three days later he has his answer. Gory Alice is playing CBGB's to celebrate the release of their first professionally-produced record, forty-three minutes of vinyl called _Twenty Flags in a Row_ , the cover art for which Jensen received actual money, and he has told everyone he knows. The band is in top form and even Adrianne's parents are here, among the girls' friends and fans and the random people who show up to hear unfamiliar bands they think they might like.

It's after Gory Alice has gotten offtage, after Jensen has congratulated them and been introduced to Adrianne's baffled parents and Alona's proud brother, after Alona has bought him a beer to thank him for being a good roommate and supportive friend, after people have squashed around the table Steve commandeered, after Jensen and Chris have dropped some coins in the jukebox and called up David Bowie – standing there listening to "Rebel Rebel", happily screaming the chorus at his best friend, suddenly he knows. He came to New York for the music. And yes, for the chance to make art with like-minded people, but his immediate unspoken response to Professor Ferris' question was the right one.

He's here because of Patti Smith, and everything her music and her poetry represented to the sheltered, suburban seventeen-year-old he was, the teenager who knew there was more to the world than Dallas, and who knew there was more to _him_. The teenager who wasn't sure where he belonged, other than somewhere else.

That teenager found his niche in New York, once glittering and beautiful but now dirty and unloved and broke as hell, but home to the smoky, dingy, hole-in-the wall club that still shines like a beacon at the end of each day.

That will be his senior thesis. That will be the project he spends the rest of his academic year working on – the power of music, the power of CBGB's, and the shelter it offers the weird and the outcast and the uncertain.

Among the stacks of books in his apartment is a volume of Patti's poetry that includes a poem that Alona loved so much, she copied it onto the wall next to her bed, line after line of bright blue marker and round, girly handwriting. Patti wrote the poem for Edie Sedgwick, a California socialite and Warhol superstar from the 60s who's been dead for eight years, but who was an object of admiration for the teenage Patti, pulled from New Jersey by the excitement of the city. As silly as it might sound to other people, Jensen's senior project will be the same thing, silkscreen on canvas rather than words on paper, but his own tribute to the forces that brought him here.

"I'll call the show 'Shaking Glittering Bones'," he tells Danneel, drunk and excited and full of ideas and so desperately, painfully in love with his world that he can't articulate it. He doesn't always get this kind of kick from his work, this euphoria, but this time it's not just art that has him all wound up, but bands and guitars and his friends on stage and his records on Chris' turntable. It's CBGB's and record stores and band flyers printed on neon copy paper and the thrill of being in the middle of a sweating, jumping crowd that knows every single song.

"That's a terrible title," Danneel says, and after a little contemplation he has to agree with her. "Think of something else."

Professor Ferris says the same thing, when he meets with her to explain the project. His idea sounds alternately unsophisticated and pretentious and maddeningly unfocused when he's sitting in her office. What's his point of view? What is he trying to say? But she offers suggestions and encouragement, and it will allow him to make prints and design album covers and create his own homage to the music he loves and the people he admires.

As if a psychic message of need somehow crossed the ocean, a box arrives at Danneel and Felicia's apartment addressed to Jensen. When he comes to get it, the girls make him open it in front of them, revealing a couple of albums, some 45s, a pile of cassettes, and a handful of pins from London. There's a note from Hayley explaining that this is the music she's into and she hopes Jensen likes it, he doesn't have to trawl through the import bins so much anymore, and she's coming back to the States to spend the summer with her dad and she wants to see him.

There's also a photo of her in a leopard-print jacket and thick black eyeliner, her arm around a guy in a spiked dog collar with his short dark hair sticking out in all directions. She's grinning, he's glowering. On the back is "Me and Dom at the Roxy! He's pretending to be hard."

"Cute," Danneel comments, looking over Jensen's shoulder. "You should send her something."

"How much does it cost to mail records overseas?" he asks.

"Probably a lot," Felicia says. She pulls out some of the 45s. "I haven't heard of half of these. What's X-Ray Spex?"

"'Oh Bondage Up Yours'." Felicia raises an eyebrow at him. "She didn't have to send that one. I already have it." He saw the band at CBGB's last year and was inspired enough to shell out a lot for their album, as an overpriced import because it hasn't been released in the US yet.

It's a good thing Chris sometimes brings leftovers home from the diner where he works, because otherwise Jensen would starve, having spent all his money on records.

He hasn't been spending a lot of time at home lately – he has classes to attend and his thesis project to plan out and other work to produce and bands to see and people to hang out with – but the hours that he's home and awake are now soundtracked to this new British bounty. He collects some things to mail back, but balks when the skeptical clerk at the post office tells him how much the package will cost and how long it will take to get to London.

And then it occurs to him that his parents are flying him home for Thanksgiving, and maybe he can impose on his dad for assistance.

His dad is not interested, but his uncle slips him some bucks, and when Jensen gets back to New York he wraps the cassettes and 45s in band flyers as if they're Christmas presents, adds some zines at Danneel's request, packs everything in styrofoam peanuts, and spends his uncle's money and then some to ship a box of music back to London.

Chris says it's excessive. Alona thinks it's sweet. Danneel and Adrianne joke about telling Jared. Jensen just puts another album on the stereo and ignores them.

* * *

New Year's Eve is a wild blowout – they're celebrating the calendar flipping to a whole new decade, after all – so wild that Jensen doesn't remember half of it the next day. He wakes up on the shaggy area rug on the floor of Rachel's apartment, Adrianne lying half on top of him, so hungover he thinks he might still be drunk. He has a vague memory of trying to call Jared's house at midnight, even though it was still 1979 in Texas, and getting Jared's little sister instead. He doesn't remember what he said to her, and he wonders dimly if Jared ever tried to call him back. He hopes not.

It takes him the entire day to recover, and that night he calls Jared to wish him a happy new year and to apologize to his sister for whatever he might have said on the phone.

"She thought it was funny," Jared says. "I went to my friend's house and just stayed over. I thought about you at midnight."

"I thought about you too," Jensen says. "Obviously."

"Good thing my parents weren't home. I would've loved to hear you explain to them why you were trying to call me at midnight."

"Don't they know you have a boyfriend in New York?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"They know I have friends in New York."

"You didn't tell them about me?" Jensen asks incredulously. He's sure they've had this conversation before, and he's sure it involved Jared explaining that his parents know all about Jensen. "Jared? What do they think? Don't they know you're gay?"

"Sort of." Now Jared sounds embarrassed. "You told me you didn't tell your parents until you were in art school. Why do I need to tell them now? It's not like I wanted to bring you home for Christmas or something."

"Who do they think you're calling all the time?"

"I told you! They know I have friends! I said I have to call you in the morning because I know that's when you'll be home. They know you're in college. Do we have to talk about this now?"

Jensen sighs. Jared could have perfectly legitimate reasons for not telling his parents, and Jensen doesn't want to start the new year by having an argument. "Sorry," he says. "Did I tell you Hayley got the albums I sent her? She sent me a postcard that just said 'Thank you' in big capital letters, with all these heart stickers. Adrianne thinks she has a thing for me."

"Well, yeah," Jared says. "Of course she does. I mean, have you looked at yourself?"

"She's not gonna be interested in me from London. I'm pretty sure she's got a boyfriend, anyway. I sent her _Twenty Flags in a Row_ , but I don't know what she thinks yet."

"I thought it was great. You told them I said that, right?"

"Yeah. They're trying to get a tour now, maybe opening up for the Pits or someone. Oh, I also sent Hayley that tape your cousin made of one of your shows, because you guys don't have an album out."

"Oh, god," Jared groans. "I've gotten so much better. I talked to Corey and when I get up there in June they're gonna look for another bass player so I can be the guitarist."

"What about the current guitarist?"

"Corey thinks he wants to leave anyway. Hey, wait here, I got an idea."

Jensen rolls his shoulders and listens to dead air. He doesn't feel like like warmed-over death anymore. Alona and Chris have gone out to give him some privacy for his phone call, and he's seriously considering going to bed after he gets off the phone. He's pretty sure he had an idea for his thesis project at some point last night, but he wishes he could remember what it was. He guesses it was the kind of idea you get after having had way too much to drink, so it's just as well he can't remember. He doesn't want to have to justify something to Professor Ferris with "Well, it was New Year's Eve and I was hammered...."

"Okay, I'm back," Jared says. "Listen."

Jensen can dimly hear him say "Shit, hang on" as if Jared is standing a few feet from the phone, and then there's the tentative sound of guitar tuning – thanks to Chris, Jensen knows the sound of a guitar being tuned by someone who isn't sure he's doing it right – and then what sounds suspiciously like a Krays song.

Jared sings along with his guitar, but softly enough, and far enough away from the phone receiver, that Jensen can barely hear him. But the guitar playing is pretty good. He must have been practicing a lot. After that song is another one, played with more confidence, and then something that sounds like Gory Alice, and finally, to Jensen's surprise, Patti Smith's "Because the Night", her most commercial single off his favorite album of hers.

Halfway through, Jensen realizes he's singing along.

_Have I doubt when I'm alone_  
Love is a ring, the telephone  
Love is an angel disguised as lust  
Here in our bed until the morning comes 

They finish the song together and then there's silence for a minute. Jensen feels romanced, and he's a little surprised to realize that he misses Jared more now than he has at any time in the past four months. As much as he thinks about Jared, and as much as he looks forward to their phone calls and Jared's letters, and as much as he enjoys making little X-rated sketches to send back, and as excited as he is for Jared to eventually move up here, he hasn't really missed Jared as deeply or as constantly as he could have.

But Jensen misses him now, and wishes they were both in New York.

"How was that?" Jared asks into the silence. "Was it... was I okay?"

"Yeah, you were okay. You were great."

"I really... I wanna get better. What?" he yells, sounding as if he's yelling at someone on his end. "I gotta go," he tells Jensen. "I really miss you. What if I quit school and went to New York now?"

"Don't do that."

"I could see you a lot sooner."

"I know, but - "

"I'm coming!" Jared yells again. "Shit. I really need to go. Happy New Year. I love you. I'll talk to you soon. Bye." And he hangs up.

Jensen's parents, brother, and sister all come up for his graduation and to see his work in the End of Year Show. They don't get it, but he doesn't care. Because the show is open to the public, Chris and Alona and Adrianne come to see it too, and while they don't completely get it either, at least it means more to them. After all, there are references to CBGB's and Gory Alice and the cowboy country music that Chris likes, homages to Blondie and the Ramones and Richard Hell and Patti Smith. Jensen has even managed to work in the bathtub in the kitchen.

"You incorporated a Pits song," Alona says, sounding surprised. She points to a line of text scrolling across one of the smaller prints. "Rob and Rich will be so pleased with themselves."

"No Outlaws?" Chris demands, and Jensen has to remind himself that Chris hasn't seen the progress sketches or the failed prints, and has been spared a lot of the process talk. He won't recognize the prairie grass or the Rickenbacker, and he clearly doesn't see the figure in the cowboy hat. He won't know how much thought went into the best way to reference his various bands and his friendship with Jensen and the times he filled in when the Pits needed a guitarist. Jensen guides him to a print at the edge of the display. Chris squints at it.

"Prairie grass," Jensen says. "The lonesome sound of the wind wailing across the prairie."

_The heat death of the universe_ , Danneel had called it, teasing him. But this print is supposed to represent something that Chris loves, something that has influenced the music he makes.

"What did you think?" Jensen asks Chris later. Alona and Adrianne have promised to bring Rachel and as many of the Pits as they can convince. Jensen doesn't mind that the deeper meaning of some of his work has gone over their heads. He doesn't believe you have to fully understand art in order to be moved by it, any more than you have to know all the lyrics to a song to have it grab you by the heart. He wants his work to move people, the way that he's moved by the things he loves. He'd wanted to have music playing, a soundtrack to emphasize the intent behind his thesis, but Professor Ferris said he wouldn't be able to get permission and there was no way to rig it up anyway.

He was tempted to follow Chris and Alona and Adrianne around humming, but figured they would be more annoyed than anything else.

"Well?" he continues, since Chris hasn't said anything.

"I'll make Steve come see it," Chris says.

"Does that mean you like it?"

"Yeah. I like it." He claps Jensen on the back. "You did good."

Jensen gets high marks and good critique for his thesis project, and high marks and good critique for the rest of his senior year. He's not quite top of his class, but his final grades are good and he's pleased with himself. He finds a million little things wrong with his thesis work as soon as it's hung, when it's too late to fix anything. But in the aggregate, his four years at Cooper Union show talent and progress and hard work, and that's important.

The Pits have a show the night of graduation, much to Jensen's parents' disappointment. His sister wants to go. His brother doesn't. He's unimpressed with the city as a whole and Jensen's crowd in particular. Jensen didn't want them to come to the apartment for that very reason, and because he knew his mother would take issue with the bathtub in the kitchen and the writing and drawings on the walls. But Jensen doesn't care. It's his life, not his brother's. He's more than happy to let his parents take him and Chris out for dinner, though. Afterwards, he's glad they want to go back to the hotel and rest, freeing him to show up at CBGB's in his graduation suit and let people congratulate him for surviving four years of higher education.

Rich makes fun of the suit and tie after the Pits are finished. Jensen just grins and says that at least he has style.

"Do you mock me, sir?" Rich demands, grinning back.

"I do mock you, sir," Jensen answers.

"Mockery! Shock! Uh. Shockery!"

They both laugh. Now that he's been seen and duly teased for his suit, Jensen shrugs out of the jacket and stuffs his tie in a pocket. It's much too close and smoky in here for him to keep wearing it. Besides, he doesn't want to have to get his suit dry-cleaned because he sweated through it, or leaned against someone's fresh graffiti.

"Alona says Rob and I need to see your show," Rich continues. "She says we're in it."

"You should. It's open for another couple of weeks. It's free."

"Free's good."

Jensen gets home late, drunk on too many congratulatory beers and Gabe, of all people, telling him he saw the senior show and enjoyed it.

In the morning Jensen suffers through brunch and a trip to the Empire State Building with his hangover and his family, and then he says goodbye to his parents and his brother and sister. He accepts their well wishes and basks in their pride at his accomplishment – even if they don't understand why he did it, they recognize his graduation from art school as an accomplishment – his dad slips him some money at the last minute, and then they're gone and he's free.

He celebrates by sleeping late for the next month, because he needs it and he can.

Jared's family drives him up from Texas in the middle of June with two suitcases, a guitar, an amp, a box of books, and a couple of plastic milk crates full of records. His parents don't want to stay in the city and like Jensen's own mother, Jared's mom isn't thrilled with the down-at-heel former tenement apartment her baby is going to live in.

"Which is your room?" she asks, glancing at the tiny bedroom which is now Chris' room, Alona having moved out, and the bigger bedroom where Jared and Jensen will sleep. Jared has already shoved his suitcases against the bedroom wall and directed his brother to deposit the box of books out in the main room next to the sagging couch, along with the guitar and amp. Brother and Dad have gone to move the car. Jared's sister is inspecting the bathtub. Jensen is still holding one of the milk crates of records.

"In here," Jared says, nodding at the bigger bedroom.

"There's only one bed."

"I know."

She looks at Jensen, at Jared, at the room – Jensen is so glad he bothered to make the bed that morning – and back at Jensen.

"If you hurt my son," she says to Jensen, "I will fly back here and we will have a talk that you will not like."

"Teacher threat," Jared murmurs, and then, louder, "Jeff will probably come after you with a shotgun."

Jared's brother is taller than Jared, older than Jared, and filling out in the shoulders. If Jensen was still in Texas, he might actually be worried.

But he's not in Texas. He's in New York, and this is his city.

He wonders what Jared told his parents about their relationship. Mom still looks dubious. Jared's sister climbs into the bathtub and calls, "How do you get any privacy when you want to wash?" Which seems to be the question everyone asks when they first see it.

"You don't," Jensen tells her. She raises an eyebrow at him.

"So you just shuck off your clothes and get in the tub with everyone watching?"

"Sometimes."

"Wow." She climbs back out. Jensen notices that she politely took her sandals off before getting in his tub. He decides it might be a bad idea to mention that sometimes you want to shuck off all your clothes and get into the tub with someone else. After all, she's young and her mom is right there.

"We're going to talk about this," Mom says to Jared.

"Now?" he asks.

"Now. Megan, come on. It was nice to finally meet you, Jensen."

"It was nice to meet you too," he says. "You want me to wait around for you?" he asks Jared, who shakes his head.

"I got a key," he says. "I'm good."

"Okay. I'll see you later."

Mom herds her two kids out of the apartment, and Jensen calls Danneel to see if she's around. Chris is at work, Alona is at band practice, and he has no idea where anyone else might be. He could go for a walk. He could wander over to Washington Square Park and look at the arch and debate with himself as to whether or not wrapping public architecture in polyester as if you’re a giant artistically-inclined spider counts as art. He could stay here and draw and listen to records. He could sit outside and draw. He could paint. He could look through the bins at any one of a number of record stores. He could admire art supplies he can't afford. He could look for a job.

Or he could go over to Danneel and Felicia's overstuffed apartment and sit on Danneel's bed while she tries to fit Felicia into a pair of leopard-print pants and Felicia tries to talk her out of it.

Jensen never asks Jared how he convinces his mom to let him stay in New York and sleep in Jensen's bed, and Jared never explains. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that Jared eventually returns to the apartment, Chris considerately vacates the place for the evening, and Jared and Jensen unmake the bed and probably annoy the neighbors.

Jared is no better of a kisser than he was the last time they saw each other, and Jensen is oddly reassured. Jared is also a little more confident in bed than Jensen remembers, which could be Jensen misremembering and could just be that Jared has had almost ten months to think about sex and plan ahead.

Jared kneels between Jensen's thighs, one hand pressed into the mattress, and talks and groans and thrusts steadily, taking Jensen's breath when he wraps a hand around Jensen's cock and starts to stroke.

"I missed you so much," Jared pants. "I missed fucking you."

"I can tell," Jensen manages to reply.

"I thought about you – uhh – fuck, you feel good."

Jensen can only moan in response. Jared leans down, lifting Jensen's hips, driving himself as deep as he can. Jensen grabs at his shoulders, his ass. Jared buries his face in Jensen's neck, words muffled in Jensen's skin, and Jensen can feel his shuddering climax.

It takes Jared a minute to push himself up and take Jensen in hand again, jerking him off with tight, quick strokes.

It's less awkward that Jensen remembers, and at least as good.

But the best part is that they no longer have a limit on the time they can spend together.

* * *

"I love your boyfriend!" Felicia shrieks at Jensen, bouncing on the sidewalk where they're waiting to see _The Empire Strikes Back_. Jared made Jensen line up outside the theater at an ungodly hour so they could get into the first show, and Felicia tagged along, being an even bigger science fiction nerd than Jared is. "No one else would do this with me!"

"How do I let you get me into these things?" Jensen demands. Jared just shrugs, an excited grin plastered across his face.

"Because you love me," he says.

"My ex wouldn't wait in line for a space epic," Felicia goes on. "And she claimed to love me."

"Is that why you're exes? Because she didn't like _Star Wars_?"

"One of the reasons. She was an exhibitionist, and I'm not. Danny walked in on us _so_ many times, I was _so_ mortified."

"Chris isn't gonna interrupt us," Jensen says reassuringly. "At least not on purpose."

Jensen doesn't remember _Star Wars_ all that well – it was three years ago, for one thing, and he saw it with a guy who was more interested in him than the movie, for another – but it doesn't affect his enjoyment of _Empire_. It helps that Jared is beside himself with excitement, and Felicia on Jared's other side practically vibrates out of her seat during the battle on Hoth. Jensen can even hear her whisper, "Noooo" in despair when Lando betrays everyone to Darth Vader, and Han Solo is encased in carbonite. Jared squeezes Jensen's hand hard enough to hurt when Darth Vader announces that he's Luke's father.

The three of them just sit there as the credits roll. Jared finally lets go of Jensen's hand, turns in his seat, and says "We have to see that again".

"We have to bring Danny," Felicia adds. "You should bring Chris. Everyone needs to see that."

The entire way home, Jared and Felicia discuss what Yoda meant when he said, "There is another". Another what? Another Skywalker? Another potential Jedi? Jensen lets their theories wash over him. He doesn't have an opinion but he understands that kind of all-consuming love for something and the need to share it with someone else.

That night, buried deep in Jared's body, he can't help but rasp, "Luke... I am your father," which cracks Jared up and makes it temporarily difficult for either of them to finish.

Having Jared in the city is great fun. Jensen finds himself looking at everything with new eyes, as if he's seeing the city for the first time, because for Jared, so much of it is new, and all of it is exciting. He loves the subway with all its graffiti and Times Square with all its sleaze, the classic silhouette of the Empire State Building and the modern shape of the Twin Towers, the grotty clubs and the dingy coffee shops, the record stores packed with more vinyl than one person could ever want. He loves the students milling around NYU and the ducks hanging in the windows of Chinatown restaurants and the big yellow Checker cabs and the earnest Marxists selling their books and political tracts off blankets on the sidewalk and even the trashy, pissy smell that seems to permeate every corner of the city. He reconnects with his cousin and Chad and the rest of the Krays. He goes to CBGB's a lot, but he also wants to check out other clubs, even making Chris take him to one of his friend Julie's folk shows over in the West Village.

He wants to make music and he wants to play in the clubs, he wants to record an album and he wants to see everything, he wants to hang out with Jensen's friends and he wants to make his own friends, and he wants to be with Jensen as much as possible.

And he wants to fuck Jensen in the bathtub, as he explains one rainy July afternoon when they're alone in the apartment.

They've been sitting on the couch listening to the Velvet Underground and making out for at least thirty minutes, judging by the way the needle is skipping off the end of that side of the album, when Jared murmurs, "Let's do it in the bathtub" against Jensen's lips.

"What?"

Jared pushes him away just enough to repeat, "Let's fuck in the bathtub." He's already starting to peel off his jeans. He stands, naked from the waist down, and ambles through the kitchen to the tub. Jensen follows, shedding his own jeans on the way, because why not? Fucking on a bed is getting boring.

"What do you want?" he asks Jared, who is now sitting in the tub, arms over the side and knees pulled up. "You want me to fuck you? You wanna fuck me? I could ride you." He's never had sex in a tub but that seems like the easiest way to do it.

"Yeah," Jared says. "Do that." He reaches up and Jensen bends down and they kiss.

Jensen leans on the rim of the tub with one hand and lets the other hand fall into Jared's lap to stroke his cock. Jared moans into his mouth.

Jensen can feel himself growing hard but now what he really wants is Jared's hand on him as well. And Jared wanted to fuck in the tub, not get a hand job in the tub. So Jensen climbs over the rim, kneels astride Jared's hips. He sits back on Jared's thighs, hand still working Jared's cock to hot hardness.

"Oh fuck," Jared pants. "Jensen, please."

A little spit, a little more, and Jensen is finally ready. He sits up, a guiding hand on Jared's stiff cock, and slowly sinks down.

"Ohhh," Jared moans. "Oh god...."

Jensen puts both hands on the curled rim of the bathtub for leverage and starts to move. Jared watches him, panting and moaning and telling him how pretty he is, how hot he is, how tight he is, how good he feels, what a great idea this was, and on and on. And Jensen just rises and falls on Jared's cock, enjoying the slide and the heat and the pressure, and the way Jared looks at him as he moves.

Jared's hands push up inside Jensen's t-shirt, flat against his chest. Jensen just pulls the shirt off and tosses it onto the floor. He leans down to bite at Jared's lips and suck on his tongue and swallow Jared's words and his moans.

"My ass is falling asleep," Jared says.

"You wanted to fuck in the tub."

"I know. I'm not complaining. I'm just saying. The bottom of the tub's hard."

"I'll show you hard." Jensen grins against Jared's lips, and Jared giggles. He sits up, guiding Jared's hand to his cock. Jared wraps his long skinny fingers around it and starts to pull. Jensen bites his lip so as not to make a noise. Jared makes enough noise for both of them and if the neighbors are home, he doesn't want to give them any more of a radio show than they already get.

"You're so hot," Jared murmurs. "I love you so much." His hand tightens around Jensen's cock, stroking harder and faster.

"Ahh, fuck," Jensen moans, unable to stop himself. His back arches. He rolls his ass against Jared's hips, pushing down, grinding, trying desperately not to come first.

Too late.

He swallows a groan as best he can, spunk dribbling over Jared's fingers as he comes.

"Shit," Jared breathes.

"Your turn," Jensen says, putting some real effort into riding Jared's cock. He tweaks one of Jared's nipples through his t-shirt, and that's apparently the push Jared needs, as he lets himself go with a strangled moan.

They just sit there for a few minutes, sharing a few breathless kisses and letting their various body parts go numb. Jensen briefly considers turning on the tap and letting the tub fill with enough water to cool them off.

Maybe they should go see a movie. Jared has only see _The Empire Strikes Back_ five times. Jensen even went with him two of those times, and he's honest enough to admit that he did it partly for the air conditioning.

Eventually he climbs off Jared and out of the bathtub, pulls his jeans back on, and suggests they go somewhere with A/C. Jared is not hard to convince.

Otherwise, Jared seems to spend most of that summer convincing Jensen to do things, or at least making the suggestions first. Hayley has come back to the city to stay with her dad for the summer, eager to pick up where she left off and get to know Jensen and all his musician friends better. She thinks Jared is adorable, although to be fair she seems to think everyone is adorable. Chad puts the moves on her, temporarily swayed by her accent, and isn't deterred by Jensen telling him she has a boyfriend.

"I don't have a boyfriend," Hayley tells him, laughing.

"Who's the guy in all those pictures you sent me?" Jensen asks. "Dom."

"He's my friend. We go to shows together. He's in a horrible band and has a horrible boyfriend who hates me." But she doesn't sound as if she harbors particularly ill feelings towards this boyfriend. "I keep telling him! 'Dom,' I say, 'Dom, you have to break up with him. He's a cunt. He hates me.' And Dom keeps saying no, he doesn't, but I know." She nods, as if she's just made a point. "He could find a nicer boy. I know he could. Like your boy! He's cute."

"He is, isn't he. Don't go out with Chad, though."

"Oh, I won't." She grins. "Your friend Chris is much nicer."

She reminds Jensen a little of Jared, in that she's fun and friendly and goofy and up for anything. When Adrianne manages to get a whole crowd of them together to play softball, Hayley even brings two friends – a cello student from Julliard named Sebastian, who's a terrible softball player, and a guy named Chris, who works at a veterinary hospital and likes musical theater and the Red Sox. He shows up wearing a Red Sox jersey, provoking much smack talk from Rich and Adrianne.

"You can take it off," Hayley suggests, grinning.

"Yeah," Adrianne adds, "take it off. Then we won't get you confused with the other Chris. You'll be Shirtless Chris."

"How about Boston Chris," he says, and points to Jensen's Chris. "You can be New York Chris."

"Christian," Jensen pipes up.

The Chrises end up on the same team, just to make things extra complicated. Everyone almost gets chased off the field by a guy who seems to think he reserved it, but they effectively gang up on him and he retreats, defeated.

"Did we have to reserve the field?" Rachel asks Adrianne, who shrugs.

"I don't know," she says. "This was just the closest place." They're at East River Park, because most of them could walk to it. Jensen wouldn't have thought they'd need to reserve a ball field in the middle of the day during the week, but who knows, Little Leaguers might need it.

Not that it matters, as one team takes the field and someone from the other team steps up to bat. Adrianne turns out to be very good, and if she hadn't decided she'd rather be in a band, she'd be playing for the varsity softball team at her high school. Red Sox Chris has a strong arm and good aim, and so ends up pitching for his team.

And Jensen, who hasn't played softball or baseball since high school, collides hard with Hayley as they're both running for a ball and ends up on his back on the grass, blinking at the sky and wondering what the hell just happened.

Hayley is apologetic, as she always is when she accidentally hurts someone, and when Chad and Alona come running over to help Jensen up, he can hear both of them laughing.

"Fuck you," he mutters, but Chad just laughs louder.

Rob has been sitting on the sidelines taking pictures with Jensen's camera, and he announces that that was beautiful, he did get a picture, and it should be suitable for framing.

Chad gets his later on, trying to slide into second base and tripping over his own feet in the process. Sebastian is guarding that base and has to sit down, he's laughing so hard. And then Sebastian accidentally lets go of the bat mid-swing the next time he's up, and it goes flying behind him and nearly hits Rachel in the head.

No one really knows how softball differs from baseball besides Adrianne, so they use whatever rules they can all agree on, and play nine innings of occasionally violent, amateur hybrid softball. Jensen rescues his camera before Rob can disappear with it, notes that there are still some frames left on the roll, and uses them up that night at CBGB's, during a show by a Canadian band called the Disruptors, which he's never heard of.

He and Jared end up chatting with the lead singer, a tall guy named Kevin who explains that they're in New York to record an album, they were lucky to get this gig, they'll probably be around for another couple weeks, and what are some other fun things to do? The band is fairly politically active back home, and Kevin is interested in meeting up with some local activists, if Jensen knows any. Jensen admits that he doesn't, but Alona and Danneel might, and for probably the first time ever, Danneel closes down CBGB's without any help from him.

"That was amazing!" she tells Jensen the next day, when she comes by the apartment to drop off a book that Felicia borrowed from Jared and forgot to bring to the softball game. He's sitting outside on the stoop, where he's more likely to catch a breeze. "I learned about Canadian politics and Kevin learned about American feminism. He wants a copy of the next issue of _Doom Pastry_. I told him to pick up Gory Alice's album, and he needs to see them and the Krays. When's Jared's next show?"

"I have no idea," Jensen says. "I don't think they're playing anywhere any time soon. They want to record an actual album but Jared says they're all fighting. I haven't seen his cousin at all except at their couple of shows. I don't think they're gonna last the summer."

"That's too bad. They're pretty good."

"Yeah, they're really getting better. Jared replaced the other guitarist, so his cousin is playing bass now. There's something going on between Corey and Chad, I think over who's the lead singer, but Jared doesn't wanna talk about it and I don't wanna make him." Jensen shrugs.

"It's tough working with family," Danneel says sympathetically. "I thought Corey was in college."

"He is. I think that's part of the problem." Another shrug. "Jared will make it work as long as he can, and if it falls apart, he'll find another band. But he's not gonna wreck his relationship with his cousin over it. But they're still trying to make a record. I think that's a good sign."

"I wouldn't know. Give this to him, okay?" She hands Jensen the book. "Felicia loved it."

Jensen passes on the message to Jared, who beams and tells Jensen that Felicia should feel free to use him as a library whenever she wants.

And so passes the summer – hot, lazy days and nights that Jensen spends bumming around, sitting around, listening to the Krays practice, listening to Chris complain about his own band, helping Danneel and Felicia start to plan their thesis projects for their last year at Cooper Union, going to CBGB's, hanging out with his friends and sometimes their friends, taking Hayley to his favorite record stores, going to movies, designing posters and flyers and album covers for the hell of it, drawing to keep up his skills, and having sex. The couch is acceptable, although Jensen really prefers the bed, and they only fuck in the bathtub once more.

Chris is starting to think he should just move in with Steve permanently, he's spending so much time there. Jensen apologizes for Jared's noise. Jared apologizes for the noise. Chris says he can wait until Jensen gets a job and is making money. Jensen figures that means he should maybe start actually looking.

The older sister of one of Adrianne's friends gets him an interview in the art department at Simon and Schuster, and while he likes the art director well enough and thinks it's a pretty good interview, mainstream book publishing doesn't look like where he wants to be. Too buttoned-up, too establishment. He feels a little off-center walking through the offices, as if someone is going to look right through him in his one decent suit and know he doesn't belong, and know that he knows he doesn't belong either. 

"You need a science fiction and fantasy publisher," Felicia tells him. "Del Rey or DAW. If that's what you wanna do."

"Thanks," he says, "but I don't think that's what I want either." But what does he know? He just graduated from school, with no assistance as to how to put his degree or his work to good use.

He asks Kim if she'd take him as a freelancer to work on album covers, and she says she might, she liked the work he did for Gory Alice, does he have any samples? He brings her the potential covers he's designed for the Krays' future album, which they're still working on, and he does a mock-up for the Disruptors, who have finally finished recording and headed back up north, and a couple for the Pits, because Kim knows them. It takes her a few days, but she tells him that sure, she can use him.

By the end of the summer he's gotten a job at an art supply store, and Hayley says he should celebrate by going to Coney Island with her and the gang, before she has to go back to London. The weather is sunny and hot and humid, and they crowd the open windows of the subway, trying to catch a breeze.

They're obtrusive and loud, because they're young and free and having fun, and Jensen isn't surprised that people on the train shift away from them. It doesn't help that Chad looks like a skinny thug with his shaved head and Doc Martens, and next to him Chris looks like a hippie. Hayley is wearing her hair in a ponytail, showing off the shaved sides of her skull, and both Alona and Adrianne haved dyed the tips of their blonde hair bright pink. It also doesn't help that both girls swing around the poles and start singing Gory Alice songs loudly enough to disrupt a couple trying to have a conversation across the car from them.

Coney Island is crowded with people, to no one's great surprise, but they don't see anyone who looks like they'd be at home at CBGB's. Alona is propositioned by a middle-aged Russian guy, much to her delight and Chris' apprehension.

"I never get to tell someone to fuck off in Russian," she says, pleased with herself. "My grandmother would be mortified."

Jared and Chad pose for a picture in front of Nathan's, their arms around each other's shoulders and their hands lifted in a two-fingered salute for Jensen's camera. Jared kisses Jensen at the very top of the Wonder Wheel, and is still kissing him when they reach the bottom. Steve pukes on the Cyclone, bringing on a round of teasing from Chris and some concern from Hayley.

"Too many hot dogs," Steve explains, after she makes him sit and tells Chad to get him some water.

"I had four," Jared says, "and I'm fine."

"You're very special," Steve tells him, dripping sarcasm.

"I know." Jared beams.

They convince one of the cashiers at Nathan's to take their picture, the whole group of them squashed together. The guy takes three in an attempt to get a good image – Jared's not looking at the camera, Adrianne's eyes are closed, Chad's mouth is open ("Shut up, Chad!" Jared and Chris snap at the same time), Danneel wants to fix Jensen's hair, Hayley is standing on Alona's foot, Rachel is worried Steve is going to puke on her.

"I'm done," he insists, after the cashier finally hands Jensen his camera back. "There's nothing left in my stomach."

"So you have room for cotton candy!" Jared says. Steve glares at him. Chris snickers.

"Shut up," Steve mutters.

"Can we go on it again?" Alona asks, completely unconcerned when Steve turns green. "You don't have to come."

"I’ll wait with you," Chris offers.

"You all suck," Steve announces. Adrianne pats him sympathetically on the shoulder and then runs off with Alona and Jared and Hayley to ride the Cyclone a second time.

They walk up and down the boardwalk and try their luck at the games and check out the freak shows and wade into the water and throw sand at each other. Steve and Chris pick Hayley up and throw her into the surf, much to her delight. Jared tries to wrestle Jensen under the water. Jensen gets sand in places no sand should be. When he complains, all the girls suggest he take his jeans off to de-sand his underwear. He’s in a good mood, so he channels his inner stripper, swings his hips, and pretends to undo his wet jeans.

"Woo-hoo!" Chad whistles. "Take it off!" He elbows Jared, who applauds. Jensen blushes scarlet, realizing this was a mistake, and buttons his jeans again.

"Aww," Hayley says, looking disappointed.

"It’s not that exciting," Chris reassures her. "You’re not missing much."

Jensen grabs him in a headlock to give him a noogie, but Chris is apparently prepared and bends and twists and flips Jensen onto his ass on the sand.

All in all, it’s a miracle that no one ends up buried on the beach, no one else gets sick, and no one even gets too sunburned. Eventually they trail back home, sweaty and sandy and sunkissed, and pile into two booths in the diner where Chris works, because even if he can't convince the line cook to give them fries for free, the place is air conditioned and the fries are fresh.

* * *

It’s a little weird when September rolls around and Jensen watches Danneel and Felicia go off to class without him, but at the same time, it’s exciting being on his own. It’s scary and aimless, but he's in charge of his own life in a way he never was, and he's going to enjoy it.

He continues to look for a design job - more than just occasionally freelancing for Kim - although now that he’s making some money he doesn’t feel quite as pressured. He misses being able to use the print shop at school, so he finds himself drawing more and getting interesting in collages. Danneel offers helpful suggestions and Jared volunteers to pose, if Jensen needs a life model.

His art life always revolved around classes and studio work and his fellow students, so now that he's graduated, the art briefly takes a back seat to the music. Jared's cousin has gone back to school and has other things to do besides trying to make his garage band famous, and by November the Krays have broken up for good. Jared has nothing material to show for his participation in his first real band, other than a couple of singles and their first and last live shows recorded on tape.

"At least you didn't lose a relationship with your cousin over it," Danneel tells him, trying to be reassuring. She's sitting on Jared and Jensen's dusty hardwood floor with the new issue of _Doom Pastry_ hot off the copy machine, having brought it over to show off before she takes it around to record stores so they can sell it. Alona and Rachel are taking up half the couch, and Chris has managed to sprawl across the other half. The girls are waiting for Adrianne to show so they can go practice, and in the meantime there's leftover pie in Jensen's fridge.

Chris leans over to pick up the zine and peers at the picture on the cover. It looks like a copy of a photograph, black and white and grainy, showing a girl with heavy black eye makeup and a high collar looking up at something. "Who's this?" he asks Danneel.

"Edie Sedgwick," she says. "It's an image from a movie poster."

"I saw her," Alona pipes up.

"You did not," Rachel says.

"I did so! She was coming out of the Chelsea Hotel! She was smoking a cigarette and wearing a long white mink coat."

_She was white on white_ , Jensen thinks, _so blonde on blonde_. Patti Smith gave up music to get married and move to Detroit, but her poetry will always stick in his head. Alona could have only seen a ghost, or an impersonator. And he doesn't think he believes in ghosts.

"You know she's dead, right?" Rachel says.

"You saw a ghost!" Jared exclaims, excited. "In the middle of the day?"

"Late afternoon," Alona says. "Yeah."

"Did she say anything?"

"Not to me."

"How did you even know it was her?" Chris asks curiously.

"I saw her face. Black eyebrows, huge eyes, long earrings. She was gorgeous. She was wearing black tights under that coat."

"Will you take me to see her?" Jared demands.

"It was a ghost, Jared," Jensen explains. "You can't just make them appear when you want."

"I'll take you," Alona says to Jared. "I know a girl at school who says Sid and Nancy are haunting Room 100. We can see that too. But if someone's staying there, we might not be able to get in."

"We can ask," Jared says. He gives her his best puppy-dog eyes as a demonstration of how exactly he's going to talk his way into a two-year-old murder scene. Jensen knows from personal experience exactly how effective that expression is.

"Murder tourists," Danneel muses.

"You could be a death tour guide," Jared tells Alona, who brightens at the idea. "Take people around to all the sites of rock death and mayhem."

"That's a terrible, morbid idea," Rachel says.

A couple of weeks later Alona and Jared go traipsing through the Chelsea Hotel, hunting ghosts. Jared takes some pictures with Jensen's camera and eventually Jensen incorporates the photo of Sid and Nancy's door into a black-white-and-red blood-soaked collage of obsession and love and murder. Jared gets it for Christmas, to his surprise and delight.

Jensen loves living with him. It's not just that he loves Jared, because that's not a surprise to him, but he loves sharing his space and his albums and his fridge and his books and his bed. Jared is determined to make it big as a rock star, and he and Chad raise another band from the ashes of the Krays, with Gabe on bass and a guy named AJ on drums. Jared's cousin gives him permission to keep the name. From the outset they're more driven than the original band ever was. For one thing, they have Gabe, and for as long as Jensen has known him, all Gabe ever wanted was to make a name for himself playing in bands, and everything he does is geared towards that singular goal.

They're also better than the original Krays, but Gabe and AJ have more experience and more time. Jared practices a lot and spends a lot of time writing songs and making plans and trying to spread the word. Jensen designs flyers and a new logo for the band, and when they convince Kim to record a demo, he creates the cover.

"I'll tell you the truth," Chris confesses one night at CBGB's, in the middle of a shambling Pits show. "I didn't think there was much to him." He nods through the crowd in the direction of the bar, where Jared has gone to refresh everyone's drinks. "He's enthusiastic, sure, but he's a kid. What does he know?"

Jensen thinks about the sex he and Jared have, and how much better it is and how Jared always wants to try new tricks and new positions, and he thinks, _More than you want to contemplate_. But he only says, "He's smart and determined. He wants to learn as much as he can."

"I know that now." Chris drains his beer and lets out a satisfied belch. "Pardon."

"Rude!" Adrianne exclaims from across the table. "I knew he'd be something," she tells Jensen, with more than a little self-satisfaction. She beams at Chris, who rolls his eyes.

Jensen picks up the pack of Marlboros sitting on the scarred table, shakes one out, and lights it. Now that he's working he can afford to buy his own, and he hasn't had to bum any off Rachel in months. He accidentally blows smoke in Adrianne's direction and she coughs dramatically and waves it away.

"They're gonna split up, aren't they?" Jared says, reappearing with a handful of glasses. He puts them down and waves at the stage, where it looks like Jason, the Pits' bass player, is arguing with Rich.

"I'm surprised they're still together," Rachel says. She pushes Jensen's cigarettes closer to him. "Don't tempt me." He hides the pack behind a bunch of empty glasses. "Rob's not giving up, though."

"I give them until spring," Chris announces.

Chad appears behind Jared's shoulder, whispers in his ear, and drags him away. The band on stage comes to a ragged halt. The drummer has come out from behind his kit and is pulling Rich away, leaving Rob and Jason standing awkwardly on stage.

"Chris," Jensen murmurs, pointing to the stage. There's some yelling from the audience.

"Shit," Chris says, sliding out of his seat and pushing his way through the crowd. Yelling is the kindest audience response the Pits can hope for, and Chris is prepared to take over for Rich before people start throwing things.

"Fuck spring," Adrianne says. "They won't make it another week."

Chad and Jared come back, both of them vibrating with excitement, and announce that they have a meeting tomorrow with Mark Sheppard, yes _that_ Mark Sheppard, he works for Arista now and he wants to talk to the Krays about a contract.

"He heard us last week," Jared adds. He can't stand still, he's so wound up. "He was at the show. We didn't even know or we would've talked to him."

"We gotta call AJ," Chad tells him. He leans over Rachel, grabs a drink from the table, and sucks it down.

"Hey!" Rachel protests. "That's mine!"

Chad puts down the glass, now half-empty. He doesn't even bother to apologize.

"Ass," Rachel mutters.

"He said our demo was good," Jared goes on. "And we had stage presence. He wants to sign us, Jensen, he says he'll make us famous!"

"Wow," is all Jensen can think of to say. "Congratulations."

"That's so exciting!" Adrianne says. She jumps up and grabs first Jared and then Chad in a hug. She even lets Chad squeeze her ass.

"I know!" Jared practically squeaks. "That's Patti's label," he adds in Jensen's direction. "I thought you'd like that."

"I do," Jensen tells him. "I'm so proud of you." Now he stands as well and is about to give Jared a hug when Jared grabs his face and kisses him. It's a long, deep kiss, full of gratitude and anticipation and desire. Someone whistles, probably Adrianne, and then Jared is letting him go and telling him, "I love you, you're the best, we gotta go call AJ," and then he's gone.

Jensen sits down, stunned and impressed and pleased.

"I knew he had it in him," he says to the table. Adrianne leans over and pats his hand.

"He'll be famous," she says. "You'll be a famous rock star's boyfriend."

Jared and Chad come back an hour later, dragging AJ with them. By now the Pits have gotten off the stage, Chris has settled back in a chair, and Alona has shown up with a friend, a girl named Nicki with a bleached shag with black roots.

Chad announces the good news a second time, Alona buys a round, and the rest of the night passes in a blur of talk and beer and cigarettes and excitement. Jensen is exhausted by the time he and Jared make it home, but he has enough energy to let Jared kiss him and kiss him and spread his legs and make him moan.

A week later the Krays have a three-album contract with Arista. They record an album, release some singles, get radio airplay. Jared can't contain himself. Jensen doesn't know what to do with his own pride. The Krays get the supporting slot on a North American tour and are gone four months, and Jensen is surprised at how quiet it is without Jared and how unused to sleeping alone he is. He gets Chris and Danneel to alternate staying with him. Felicia has a new girlfriend – thankfully less of an exhibitionist – and is glad to get Danneel out of the apartment from time to time. Chris admits that as much as he loves Steve, the two of them get on each other's nerves when confined to the same apartment.

Jared calls the apartment at weird hours and tells Jensen about the tour and the venues and the crowds and how well things are going, and he's having so much fun but he misses Jensen so much but he's so happy. And Jensen tells him the same thing – I'm having fun, I miss you, life is good, I'm happy. And none of it is a lie.

* * *

Suddenly it's two years later. Jensen has worked at an ad agency, the art department of a magazine, and, briefly and most bizarrely, an architecture firm, a job he got through one of Danneel's friends. Now he's at the _Village Voice_ , thanks to a friend of Kim's, and he likes it. The magazine was fun until it went under, and his boss at the paper doesn't care when he shows up for work one day with bleached hair and a pierced ear. Danneel put two holes in his ear with a safety pin while Alona and Chris waited with ice and rubbing alcohol and Jared sat on his hands in nervousness.

After she was done with Jensen, Jared recovered enough to ask her to do his ear too.

Gory Alice is still together, although Rachel left and Nicki replaced her behind the drums. Steve and Chris have run through three different bands but seem to be satisfied with their current group, and even though they still get on each other's nerves where domestic stuff is involved, they're still sharing an apartment.

The Pits finally broke up, although they hung on much longer than anyone expected, and Rich, to everyone's great surprise, got married. He and Rob have their own label now, a tiny outfit called Pirate Records. They've signed Chris and Steve's band and so far everyone who's worked with them has good things to say.

Hayley hasn't been back to the States for any longer than a month or two, but she and Jensen are still writing and occasionally sending stuff to each other. She does as much local grass-roots promotion as she can when the Krays finally make it across the pond. She seems to think Jensen and Red Sox Chris should be friends, but they haven't seen or spoken to each other since the softball game. He's run into Sebastian a few times, though, and his continual impression of the boy is "cute, fun, a total dork". Which is also a good description of Hayley, to be honest.

Danneel is working at the Antique Boutique on Broadway, selling vintage clothes and accessories, and spending her free hours painting and making her own clothes. _Doom Pastry_ is still going. Felicia is working on a comic book, trying to fit it around her day job selling other people's comics at the Forbidden Planet on Broadway. She writes and draws and publishes and promotes out of her and Danneel's apartment on East 7th Street. It's slightly larger than where they lived while they were in school, but the place is so crowded with ripped-apart thrifted clothes and art supplies and paintings and fabric and a dress dummy and a drawing table and a sewing machine that Danneel has taken to leaving some stuff at Jensen and Jared's, and comes over there to work on her zine.

Like Hayley, Kevin the Canadian has turned into another of Jensen's international penpals. But where Hayley sends chatty notes about clubs she's been to and albums she's listening to and friends she's hung out with, along with pins and patches and the occasional bit of band merch or tourist souvenir, Kevin sends long rambling letters about music and touring and politics and food and the vast Canadian plains. The Disruptors make it to the States for a tour and Jensen drags as many people as he can find to their one show in New York.

The Krays have recorded a second album, hit the charts with several singles, toured the US on their own, made a stab at Europe, and won some awards. They're getting famous. The band takes up all of Jared's time, even when he's home, and as much as Jensen is trying to keep up, he can feel them drifting. He doesn't think Jared has been anything other than faithful, but he knows the temptations that lie on the road, especially when you're young and cute and talented and hard-working and successful and everyone wants you.

Jensen is proud of his boyfriend. He buys all the Krays' albums and singles and goes to their shows, but as they get bigger and bigger he finds himself more and more shut out. Jared finally confides that the label is nervous about having a gay guitarist in a Top 40 band, so they've asked him to downplay the fact that he has a boyfriend, or that he's even interested in boys. And Jared, because he loves making music and wants to keep his success, is happy to go along.

And Jensen, for his part, has his own life – his job and his art and his non-famous friends and CBGB's, always.

He's still surprised when it falls apart. The calendar has just ticked over into 1983, and gay boys he vaguely knows are getting sick and dying and no one seems to care. He runs into Tom outside Bleeker Bob's record store, of all places, and is shocked at how bad he looks – skinny and tired and a frail shadow of his former beauty. They exchange hellos, how-are-yous, what-are-you-up-tos, and then Mike, Tom's attached-at-the-hip best friend, comes out of the record store and says they have to go.

Danneel goes to the funeral with Jensen and tells him as they're leaving that if she ever, ever has to sit in a church like that for him she will never forgive him for as long as she lives.

Jensen walks around in a winter funk for almost a week. Tom was a mistake but he was fun while he lasted, and Jensen would never wish that kind of death on anyone. And while his friends and some of his colleagues at the paper are sympathetic, Jared is busy and only vaguely comforting.

Two weeks after that, it's over. Jared's stuff disappears while Jensen is at work – someone even takes the time to separate out Jared's records and books – and Jensen doesn't know what to do with himself. It's like the Krays have gone on tour again, except this time he knows Jared won't be back.

Felicia wants to move in with her girlfriend, so Danneel packs her things, her art supplies and sewing machine and dress dummy, and moves it all into what is now Jensen's apartment alone. But he doesn't want to stay there with the memory of his years with Jared permeating the walls and the floors. He can't bathe in the tub where they had sex, or bring himself to look at all the drawings on the walls, or even sleep on the mattress they shared. He needs to put his records somewhere else, somewhere he can listen to them and not have to look around and remember everything that happened in those few rooms as the turntable spun.

So he and Danneel pack everything up again, his stuff this time as well as hers, and shift over to Second Avenue, to a little two-bedroom that fills up immediately once they unpack.

Life goes on. Kevin and the Disruptors come back to New York to record a couple of songs with a producer they really like. They're in town for five days but manage to knock out both songs in thirty-six hours, leaving them time to hang out, kick back, and raise some hell. Jensen comes down with the flu, depressingly putting him out of commission. The band needs a place to crash – they don't even have to all crash in the same place – and despite being ill Jensen is a generous guy with a couch, which is how he comes to be woken out of a sound sleep by Kevin yelling, "Sweep, you cunts!"

"The fuck," Jensen mutters to himself. He rolls out of bed and goes into the other room, where Kevin is perched on the edge of the couch, books and half-finished drawings piled around him, intently watching TV. Whatever's on seems to involve a sheet of ice and guys in matching athletic jackets and what look like big round stones. It seems to be some kind of competition or something.

"The fuck," Jensen repeats. Kevin cringes without even looking at him, embarrassed. Jensen realizes there's no sound coming from the TV. If Kevin hadn't gotten so excited, he'd still be asleep. "You woke me up."

"Sorry, man."

"What are you watching?"

"The Brier." That means nothing to Jensen, which must show on his face, because Kevin goes on to explain "Curling? Sport of champions?"

"Is that a weird Canadian thing? Don't answer that. I'm going back to bed. Keep it down, okay?" He doesn't even wait for an answer before heading back into the bedroom, getting in bed, and trying to sleep.

By the time he wakes up again, his and Danneel's tiny apartment has suddenly filled up with the rest of Kevin's band, plus a couple of people the bass player knows, plus a random Canadian friend of Danneel's named Ryan. Jensen likes him well enough, but now there are too many people in the place and they're all talking about politics and music and sports and he's too sick to join the conversation, but they're making so much noise he can't go back to sleep. He calls Chris.

"Save me," he says. "I've been overrun with Canadians. Kevin brought the band."

"I thought you liked him."

"I do. He's great. But they're arguing about politics, Chris. I'm not well enough for this shit. Can I come over?"

"And get your germs all over me? Fat chance."

"I'll sleep on the floor."

"No you won't. It's Jensen," he calls, presumably to someone on his end of the line. "His place filled up with Canadians when he wasn't looking."

"Is that Steve? Tell him I need some peace and quiet."

"And you're calling me?" Jensen can hear the grin in Chris' voice. "Sure, come on. I think we're going out but I'll hang around for you."

"You're a lifesaver."

He digs out some clean clothes, combs his hair, and tells Kevin he's going somewhere quiet, but they can stay as long as they want.

"You trust us heathens?" Kevin asks, grinning.

"Just lock up if you leave," Jensen says. "Don't drink all my beer."

Kevin gives him a thumbs-up and Jensen makes his way down the stairs and outside. It's not a short walk to Chris' place but Jensen thinks that fresh air and exercise might be good for him.

He's wiped out by the time he gets to the apartment, but Chris and Steve let him sleep on the couch while they're out. Chris is only gone a couple of hours, considerately bringing Jensen some chicken soup when he returns.

* * *

Jensen is thumbing through the imports at Tower Records, new and huge and rising over the corner of 4th and Broadway, knowing without wanting to that the Krays released their third album not too long ago. They were working on it when Jared left him.

His thoughts pause long enough for him to hear the music playing in the store, the voice so familiar he stops looking at albums long enough to listen, just to make sure it's what he thinks it is. It sounds like Chad, and now that he's determined it really is them, Jensen stops paying attention. And then a lyric catches his ear and suddenly all his concentration is turned back to the song.

_And I never got to dance with her  
Oh I never had a chance with her_

And Jensen knows, as surely as he's ever known anything, that this song is about him. It's about him and Jared and the day Alona told them she saw Edie Sedgwick, nine years dead and yet walking out of the Chelsea Hotel with her platinum hair and a long white mink coat.

But it could be Jared resurrecting his innocent seventeen-year-old self, staying with his aunt and uncle in Queens for the summer, meeting Jensen and his friends for the first time and feeling intimidated.

And it could be about Jensen now, Jensen who has absolutely no chance with the closeted superstar Jared has become.

Jared has made damn sure of that.

"God damn you," Jensen says under his breath, abandoning the album in his hand and walking out.

Danneel wants to make him feel better about his broken relationship but she's afraid to introduce him to the gay boys she knows, out of fear that whatever is killing them will infect him. The end result is that he ends up with her. He never would have guessed he'd get involved with a girl, even one he loves as much as Danneel, but here they are. He wonders if it's just because they're living together and she's always in such close proximity, because everything happens very naturally and unobtrusively, and suddenly they're sleepig together.

Felicia isn't surprised, but everyone else Jensen knows is. He doesn't quite understand it – he's gay, he likes fucking boys, he's always liked fucking boys, for as long as he's known what fucking was – but he can't complain about it. She's his best friend who isn't Chris, she loves him, she cares about him, and she wants him to be happy. And Jensen, for his part, is glad to have some companionship that won't fall apart because his companion has gotten too famous to be seen with him.

For one thing, no one cares about a pretty girl dating a pretty boy.

Her scene isn't really his scene, and his scene isn't really hers, but he's dragged her to CBGB's enough times, and has made her see bands he likes enough times, that he can go out with her and her friends to the clubs they like. He can enjoy the music, new wave and New Romantic and more electronic than he's used to but arty and interesting all the same. He likes enough of her friends, but he's forcing himself to let her dress him up and make him up and take him to Danceteria and the Limelight, places full of coked-up pretty people and more "scene" than he wants. But she'll kiss him, and tell him how good he looks, and he'll kiss her back and tell her she's gorgeous and mean it, and every so often they'll do what he sometimes did with Jared, and hide in the bathroom for a quickie.

One night he finds himself in the men's room with Stephen, who found him that short-lived job at the architectural firm, and Stephen is offering Jensen a line of coke stretched across the back of his hand. Jensen is out of his element and out of his depth and he's had just a little too much to drink and he feels as if he owes it to Danneel to be fun and social but he doesn't want to be here. He thinks, _What the hell_ , and snorts it.

It hits the back of his throat like a Play-Doh flavored burn, like the worst post-nasal drip ever, but his head clears and he goes back out to the club and suddenly he can talk to people, he can hold conversations without feeling like he's forcing himself, he can hear the music with crystal clarity, he can be social and friendly and confident and no doubt everything Danneel wants him to be. He loves her and Stephen and everyone in the club. It's amazing.

He's a little hungover in the morning, but not too badly, considering. But in the sober light of day he doesn’t really want to go back there again. Danneel understands, and Jensen is grateful. He likes living with her and sleeping with her, but when he steps back long enough to look at his life, he can't understand how he got here.

"Does this make me bisexual?" he asks her one night, after she straddles him in the men's room of some bar.

"Only if you want it to," she says. "What do you want to be?"

"Happy," he says, before he can stop himself, even though that isn't what she asked.

She rests her forehead against his. "Are you?"

"I don't know."

"Let's go home." She leans back and drops a quick kiss on his lips. "Maybe you'll know better in the morning."

It's another couple of months before he knows exactly what he is, or at least what he will be. A father.

Chris slaps him on the back. Alona squeals with excitement, throws her arms around his neck, and gives him a smacking kiss on his cheek. Adrianne does the same

"We should get married," Jensen tells Danneel, when she's pregnant enough to show.

"Why?" she asks.

"For the kid."

"That's the least romantic proposal I've ever heard." But she's grinning, teasing him.

He kneels on the floor, pulls off his grandfather's ring, and presents it to her. "Danneel Harris, will you marry me?"

"Yes. Yes I will." She pulls him up, laughing, and kisses him. "Can we wait until the baby's born? I know she won't remember it but I want her to witness her parents' wedding."

"How do you know it's a girl?"

"I just do."

She's right, as it turns out, and they name the baby Justice Jay, because Danneel wants her daughter to be a superhero.

They get married at City Hall, with Felicia and Chris as witnesses and baby JJ swaddled in a bright blue cape. Later, as many people as will fit pack into Chris and Steve's apartment to drink and eat and congratulate the couple and their adorable, well-behaved baby.

Jensen wants to tell Jared, but what would he say? _I got Danneel pregnant and married her and the baby's beautiful and I wish you could be here_? He doesn't even know where Jared is. He could find out – it isn't as if the Krays' movements are much of a secret – but in his heart, he doesn't want to know.

"Your daddy's ex capitulated to the Man," he tells JJ one night, bouncing her up and down while Danneel gets dressed to go out. "They told him he couldn't be seen with a boy in public, so he dumped me. Your mommy is much better for me. Look at her. Isn't she pretty?" He turns JJ around so she can watch Danneel curling her hair into victory rolls. One of her coworkers is throwing a fancy-dress party somewhere tonight, and Jensen is trying not to feel like he's giving something up by staying home to watch the baby rather than going out himself. There's a good band at CBGB's, a female-fronted outfit that Felicia's girlfriend introduced him to, and he really wants to go, and he can't. It's not like he can bring his kid with him, and where is he going to find a babysitter?

"I'll apologize to Stephen that you can't be there," Danneel says, grinning at Jensen in the mirror. Stephen apparently has a huge crush on him, and the time he offered Jensen coke and Jensen took it was supposed to be a come-on. The fact that Jensen's married doesn't bother Stephen at all. Danneel thinks the whole thing is funny. Jensen thinks it's awkward.

The phone rings, conveniently ending that line of conversation, and he manages to balance JJ in one arm as he answers it.

"Where are you?" Chris asks on the other end. "I thought you were coming over."

"I can't. I'm babysitting."

"You're not _babysitting_ ," Danneel corrects him, "you're _parenting_."

"I'm parenting," Jensen repeats into the phone. "Watching the baby."

"Watching her do what?" Chris asks.

"Right now? Staring at me."

"I'll babysit!" Alona says, having apparently grabbed the phone from Chris. "I'll watch her and you can go out."

This sounds like a good plan to Jensen, and if Danneel has any reservations, she keeps them to herself. Alona is pretty responsible, as Jensen's friends go. At least he thinks so until he gets home to discover JJ with a head of bright pink spikes and Adrianne asleep on the couch with her hair freshly sprayed up into a seven-inch mohawk. Alona is playing the Slits and telling JJ about girls who rock.

Danneel gets back so late it's actually morning, and by that time both Alona and Adrianne have gone home, and Jensen has fallen asleep on the couch with JJ on his stomach. Danneel wakes them up, admires her daughter's newly-pink hair, and puts them both to bed. And from then on, she and Jensen develop a bit of a reputation in their respective circles as the punk parents with the punk baby. It's weird being the only parent among all his friends, but until someone else starts reproducing, he'll just have to get used to it.

One day Jensen and JJ, who is now three, are waiting for the train to take them to the Upper West Side and the barbeque place where Chris is working, and there are two girls staring at them. One of the girls has a long teased tangle of dyed-black hair, and her friend is wearing ripped jeans and oxblood Docs and has a bleached-out mohawk with uneven red tips. He guesses they're staring because he spiked his and JJ's hair this morning, and she looks adorable in her pink tights and black t-shirt with the skull and crossbones and her tiny red Chuck Taylors. He's feeling especially piratical in his black t-shirt and hoop earrings, and how often do you see dads with tiny punk daughters?

He makes a mental note to see if he can find more Aqua Net, because he's pretty sure they're almost out and Danneel will be pissed if she needs it and the can is empty.

* * *

One day he turns around and it's 1988, Reagan is almost out of office, the disease that is still killing gay boys has a name if not a cure, the city is cleaner and prettier than it was when his daughter was born, and sometimes he feels old. He and Danneel have been to more funerals since Tom, and in a fit of paranoia she made him go to the doctor. He was clean. She was relieved. She's still making clothes in her spare time, but she left retail for an assistant job at an art gallery, and she loves it. Jensen eventually left the _Village Voice_ , worked briefly for the New School, and started a business with a guy he met through Rob, an energetic artist with an activist streak who calls himself Misha. They rent a storefront on Ludlow where they design and print letterhead, invitations, announcements, and posters. They have an ancient letterpress and Jensen gets to silkscreen. The money is erratic, but the job is fun.

Chris gave up trying to make it as a musician and turned his talents to food, working his way through a succession of restaurants and the occasional business class with the ultimate aim of opening his own place. Rob got married and he and Rich shipped Pirate Records halfway across the country to Minneapolis. Steve moved to Wisconsin, of all places, to help run a record store with the Pits' former drummer and his wife. Rachel followed him, to Jensen and Alona's eternal bafflement. Adrianne insisted she saw it coming. After Gory Alice called it quits she followed a boy to Seattle, but she was back in New York seven months later, and now she's studying anthropology at Hunter College and playing bass in a metal band. Alona discovered straight edge and vegetarianism and ultimately decamped to a dairy farm in Buttfuck Nowhere, Upstate New York, from where she occasionally sends Jensen letters about cheese and cows and dogs and the little kids she's teaching about rock n' roll.

Jensen lost touch with Hayley. The Disruptors broke up and then he lost touch with Kevin as well, but every so often he'll pay attention to news from Canada on the off-chance that he'll hear about an overgrown punk rocker getting arrested for throwing eggs at the prime minister or chaining himself to a fence in protest of something or other.

So many faces he knows are gone. Jensen might think everyone was deserting a sinking ship, if New York was not in fact doing the very opposite of sinking. He's not sure if this is the rising tide that will lift all boats. He just knows his friends are leaving. At least Felicia is still in the city, making comics and gleefully nerding around with her girlfriend. And Adrianne's back, although school and her new band take up enough time that Jensen doesn't see her that often.

Even the Krays broke up. For a couple of years Jensen did his level best to ignore any news of Jared's band, and most of the time he succeeded. But he needed to be able to hear them on the radio or in a store, or catch a glimpse of them on TV, or see their faces or their name on the front of a magazine, or come across one of their albums flipping backwards through the Ps in a record store bin in his search for Pere Ubu. He needed to be reminded of the Krays' existence without being hurt that Jared would throw him over for a chance to hang on to fame. Jensen feels a little pang when he reads that the band threw in the cards, just for the remembered joy that Jared took from them, but at the same time, he realizes that he doesn't care. It feels like growth.

He also takes a good hard look at his marriage and his relationship with Danneel and realizes that after five years, he still prefers men. He's never wanted any woman but her, but he can't help thinking about the occasional guy. He'd never cheat, and he loves his wife, but all the same, it's no longer the life he wants to live. It's not the person he thinks he is.

"I don't think I can do this anymore," he tells her.

"What do you mean?" she asks. JJ is at a friend's house and Danneel is taking the opportunity to finish a little painting she's been working on. Jensen is leaning against the wall watching her.

"This." Jensen gestures at the space between them. "You. Me."

"What are you saying?"

"I don't know. I love you and I love JJ and I don't want to hurt you. But I'm – I'm still gay, Danny. I don't think I can do this forever."

"Do you want a divorce?" She stares at him.

"No. I don't know. You know I'd never cheat on you - "

"I know that."

" - but it's not fair to either of us. I still want to be JJ's dad. I want us to stay together."

"But you want a relationship with a man."

"Yeah." He feels miserable. He's going to hurt her, or she's going to hurt him, and both of them are going to hurt their kid. He doesn't know what the answer is.

But Danneel is chewing the end of her brush and thinking. "What if... what about an open marriage? If you want to see other people, you can, and if I want to look for someone else, I can. We'll just talk about it first. I'd want to meet your guy. You should meet my guy, if there is one."

Now it's Jensen's turn to stare. "We'd have a sham marriage."

"We'd still be making a household. Gay people used to marry their opposite-sex friends all the time, to protect themselves and get their parents off their backs. They still do. Like you married me." She grins.

"I married you because I got you pregnant and I love you," he protests huffily, offended.

"I know that." Her voice is soothing. "What I mean is that we don't have to break up in order to be happy. And don't tell me you're totally happy. If you were, we wouldn't be talking about this."

It's a weird free-love hippie solution, but it might work. The only question is whether or not he can find someone who's okay with this arrangement, who doesn't mind that he's married and has a kid.

"Won't we confuse JJ?" he asks.

"I don't think so. Kids are a lot more open-minded than you think. What else do you want to do? You don't want to split up, I don't want to split up, but you want to be able to have a relationship with a man. There's a way you can have both. I know it's unconventional. So are we."

"We can try it, I guess. I think I'd feel like I was cheating."

"Not if you tell me ahead of time. Not if I know."

He mentions it to Misha, whose wife is a cultural anthropologist studying marriage and sex and relationships, because he thinks he wants some advice. Misha tells him it's a great idea, there's this guy Vicki knows, really cute, smart, new to the city, they'll introduce them and see what happens. But Jensen's not ready yet. For now it's just enough to know there's a way to be true to himself without hurting Danneel or having to leave her or JJ.

And then Misha's wife is offered a job at UC Berkeley, a teaching position and some really excellent research and publishing opportunities, and she takes it. Misha takes Jensen out for a drink to break the news, and shares that he's already started putting feelers out for spaces they can use for their design and printing studio.

"Think about it," he says. "It's a whole new market with all new chances to make something great. Sometimes a change of scenery is the best thing you can do for yourself. You'll meet all new people. New men. Get to hear new kinds of music. JJ can grow up near the ocean."

JJ has been to Coney Island a few times, to ride whatever rides they'll let her on and to run around on the beach, and once Jensen and Chris took her out to Rockaway Beach and sang Ramones songs to her on the subway, but she's never really seen the ocean. And the changing faces in the places he used to frequent are making Jensen feel old. Even CBGB's, which always made him feel alive and part of something amazing, half the time he walks through the door he thinks he should be walking somewhere elese.

Danneel doesn't want to leave her job and her access to new and exciting artists, but she mentions to her boss that she and her husband are considering moving to San Francisco. He gives her a list of people he can contact on her behalf, if she's interested in working in the arts out there, and he suggests she look them up when she gets there.

It doesn't take Jensen as long as he might have expected to say goodbye to the people he knows who are still around. He calls Alona and Steve and Rob and Rachel, to tell them where he's going, and he stops at the Kiev and Bleeker Bob's and Tower Records and even the Antique Boutique. He goes to CBGB's one last time to say goodbye and leave his mark - "Bless your shaking glittering bones" written in his most avant-garde print in violent pink marker on the wall behind a table, the only graffiti he has ever left anywhere in the one place that meant the most to him, referencing the rock n' roll poet-priestess who brought him here.

Chris sells Jensen and Danneel his car. They rent a trailer, pack their things, buy a stack of maps, and stand on the sidewalk in front of their apartment on Second Avenue to say goodbye. Jensen promises to call, promises to write. Chris hands him a grocery bag full of lovingly-prepared snacks for the road, and Jensen gets in the car with his wife and his kid and his records and his books and his art, twelve years of his life in this changing city, and he waves out the window as he turns west, and he drives away.

* * *

_Now_  


Jensen doesn't know how his daughter managed to convince him to take her to New York and show her his old stomping grounds, but here they are, traipsing around the Lower East Side and the East Village while he tries to lay his old memories over new sights and she provides a running commentary of what she thinks he might have done.

"This is where Dad held Mom's hair while she puked. This is where Mom rubbed Dad's back while he puked. This is where Dad drew all over his bedroom walls because it was a cheap-ass apartment and there was no security deposit. This is where Dad - "

"JJ, stop." He's embarrassed at her not-entirely-inaccurate replay of his wild youth.

"You don't want to take me on the nostalgia tour?" She grins.

"Not really, no."

"I thought that's why we were here. I bet New York looks a lot different now."

"That's an understatement."

The parts of the city he knew are almost unrecognizable. Alphabet City is overrun with cute little stores and hip little restaurants and expensive little apartments. CBGB's is a John Varvatos boutique, for Christ's sake.

The Judson Health Center is still on Spring Street, where Danneel went for prenatal care and Chad once hit on a nurse right before she told him he had walking pneumonia. But St Vincent's, where JJ was born, is completely gone. Jensen doesn't know how an entire hospital can vanish, how a place like St Vincent's can go bankrupt, but it did.

He does manage to find the building where he lived first with Chris and Alona, then with Chris and Jared, and finally with Jared alone. JJ has seen photos of the bathtub in the kitchen and Jensen sitting on the fire escape, and she comments that it's a lot cleaner than it was in the pictures. Well, of course it is. The entire city is cleaner than it used to be. The guys selling shit off blankets on East Village sidewalks have all been swept away. The subways are shockingly nice and Times Square feels like the city by way of Disneyland.

Jensen talks his way into the Foundation Building at Cooper Union and shows JJ the printmaking shop and the painting office and the galleries and the studio spaces where he and Danneel worked on projects and hated their art and produced the pieces for their senior shows that would demonstrate what they'd learned and what styles and points of view they'd developed.

Even the school looks different – there are dorms now – and Jensen hadn't thought it would ever change.

"Do you miss it?" JJ asks, as they walk down 8th Street towards Washington Square Park. 

"Do I miss what?" Jensen asks, his mind thirty-five years away. He remembers making a point to see the Washington Square Arch after Francis Hines wrapped it in polyester, so he could argue its merits with the sculptor in the studio space across from his.

"New York."

"Sometimes."

It's very strange to be back, walking the streets he knew as a twenty-something punkass, when he was younger than his daughter is now. No one he knew back then is still around, at least not as far as he knows. He's lost touch with a lot of people. When JJ suggested he look them up on Facebook, he laughed, but maybe it's not such a bad idea.

"You could start with Jared," she'd said.

But after all this time, what would he say?

JJ's phone pings twice. She fishes it out of her jacket pocket, squints at it, and answers whoever texted her.

"Good news, bad news?" Jensen asks. "Is that your mother?" Danneel knows JJ got him to come back to the city, and Jensen knows she'll want an update.

"No," JJ says. "Let's walk through the park."

As they pass the arch, and Jensen imagines it covered in ghostly white polyester again, someone calls his name. He looks around, hears it again, and - 

"JJ," he says, surprise and warning both in his voice. "What did you do?"

She just beams at him.

Because coming up on Jensen's left, wider and older and unmistakable, is Jared.

"I've been waiting for an hour!" Jared exclaims, and before Jensen can think of something to say, before he can even engage his brain enough to say hello, Jared has him in a crushing hug and he can't breathe.

He can see JJ over Jared's shoulder, grinning fit to split her face, looking so fucking pleased with herself that he can't help but give in and hug Jared back.

When Jared finally lets him go, Jensen stares at his daughter, who's laughing now.

"You should see your face," she says to him. "You want to kill me and kiss me at the same time." She gives him a kiss on the cheek and says, "Go have fun. Get reacquainted." And with a cheery wave she bounces off towards the edge of the park and away.

"I guess she didn't tell you that she found me on Facebook," Jared says.

"No," Jensen says, "she didn't." He looks Jared up and down, taking in the jeans, the dark green button-down over a plain t-shirt, the black jacket, the windblown hair, the laugh lines around Jared's green eyes, the tiny hoop in his ear.

"Remember when Danny pierced your ear?" Jensen asks, surprising himself, and Jared laughs.

"I watched her do yours," he says, "begged her to do mine, and whined for the rest of day about how much it hurt."

Jensen fingers his own earlobe, where there are still the two holes that Danneel stabbed into his ear with a safety pin in the most cliched punk-rock way imaginable. Usually he just wears one little hoop in the bottom one, like Jared has now, but he didn’t today.

He realizes they're just standing there, in the middle of Washington Square Park, on a beautiful spring day, in the beautiful city that New York has become. They should go somewhere.

"Are you hungry?" Jared asks. "I'm starving."

And now it's Jensen's turn to laugh, because he remembers that too.

"Where do you want to go?" he asks, and when Jared shrugs, Jensen starts walking towards the far corner of the park, because he knows there will be restaurants that way. Maybe the coffeehouse that Danneel loved is still there.

He stops right in front of the storefront that used to be Bleeker Bob's, does an about-face, and heads back to the park. Anywhere they go, he'll be reminded of something or someone he knew that's gone. They'll have to go uptown to escape it, and that's not why he's here.

He's here, apparently, to reconnect with his long-ago ex, because his daughter seems to think he should.

They stop at the corner of Broadway and 4th, waiting for the light so they can cross, and Jared points to the wall of glass around the building behind them. "What did this used to be? It was something else."

"Tower Records," Jensen says.

"Huh. The Krays did a signing here for _Left at the End of the Line_."

"I remember."

"You didn't come, did you?"

"No."

The light changes and they cross. Jensen doesn't have anything to say about the two albums the Krays released after Jared left him. He stopped trying so hard to avoid them, but he was never interested in listening to them either.

"You think this is weird," Jared says. "You're right. It is." He stops and pulls Jensen to the side, against a building so they're out of the way of the sidewalk traffic. "Let's get it out of the way – I was a dick to you, and I'm sorry. I thought about you a lot and wondered what you were doing, but I never tried to find you because I didn't think you wanted anything to do with me. And then everything fell out of my control and it was too late." He looks hurt, and sincere, and Jensen can see the seventeen-year-old boy in Jared's fifty-three-year-old face, and he realizes he forgave and forgot a long time ago.

And suddenly it's easy to be here with him, because in the middle of this barely-recognizable place, Jensen sees a face he knows, older but oddly unchanged.

"I'm sorry," Jared says again. "I want to get to know you again. I want to know what you've been doing the past thirty years. I want you to want to know about me."

"I do," Jensen says. "I don't hold it against you anymore. It's been a long time. What time is it? Maybe we should get a beer, sit and talk like old friends."

"We are old friends." Jared grins. "I quit drinking, but if you want a beer I'm sure we can find a bar."

"Nah, it's okay. But I can eat."

They find a barbecue place not far from Cooper Union, and sit and eat and talk. The longer they chat, the easier it gets, and if it weren't for the fact that neither of them knows anything of the other's life, Jensen can almost believe they've actually kept in touch over the years.

He learns that Jared lost his mind after the Krays broke up, that he went to rehab and disappeared from public view, that he met a woman with two sons and a ranch, that he eventually resurfaced in Austin and opened a little club to champion local bands because he missed the visceral thrill of live music.

"I started writing when I was at the ranch," Jared says. "I'd stopped for a while – my head was a mess, my life was a mess, everything was so fucked up – but Gen was really good for me, and she got me working again. I've seen Chad a few times and we've almost got enough good songs for a new album."

"Are you making a comeback?"

"I don't know. It's been a long time. I don't know how to do it anymore."

"What, be a star?" Jensen can't help but grin, and Jared grins back.

"Maybe. Now it's your turn. What did I miss in your life?"

_Everything_ , Jensen thinks, and he tells Jared about starting a business with Misha, about leaving New York for San Francisco when JJ was five, about divorcing Danneel but staying close, emotionally and geographically, until JJ went off to college. He tells Jared that he lives in Chicago now, that he's a freelance graphic designer but also teaches at the School of the Art Institute, that his favorite thing to design is still album covers, that he shares a printing studio with four other artists, that most of the time he feels too old to go to clubs and see bands, that he misses it.

"And I quit smoking," he adds. "I don't miss that."

"So if I were to kiss you, you wouldn't taste like an ashtray?"

"Are you saying you want to kiss me?" It's a measure of how comfortable Jensen feels that his tone is light and joking, and if Jared were to actually kiss him, he would probably kiss back.

"We should let them have the table," Jared says, conveniently changing the subject.

So they walk some more and talk some more and meander down the Bowery to the high-end men's boutique that used to be CBGB's.

_Joey's probably spinning in his grave_ , Jensen thinks, looking around at the rolling racks of jackets and shirts, the boots and shoes lined up on the stage, the guitars under glass, the chandelier, the graffiti. He can't tell where the bar used to be, or where the tables were. He can't remember where he left his own graffiti among the crazed scrawl. If he'd had the money and been a different person, he might have been convinced to wear these clothes when he was young and skinny, but all the same, he feels distinctly out of his element.

"I found you a t-shirt," Jared says, holding it up and grinning. The shirt is gray, no doubt washed repeatedly so it looks vintage, and it says "Let go and give in to the music" across the front.

At least the text is appropriate. But not for $68.

They can spend an hour and a half sitting at a barbecue restaurant catching up, but it only takes five minutes in this designer place before Jensen's had enough.

It's easier for him to walk around with Jared than it was for him to show JJ his old stomping grounds. The cognitive dissonance is still strong, and Jensen is sharply aware of how much he and Jared have both changed, but at the same time, he's walking the streets he used to know with someone he used to love, and there's something familiar about that.

They wander through the Lower East Side and back up to the Village. They take the subway down to the site of the old World Trade Center, because Jared wants to see it, and they walk around the memorial in silence. Jensen was in the Bay Area when the towers came down, and because he didn't know anyone in New York to check on, he called Chris.

"JJ was in college," he tells Jared once they're back on the subway. "She called me as soon as she heard. She woke me up."

"You were the first person I thought of," Jared says. "My sister called me in a panic." He chuckles. "Gen and I had split, but we were still friends. I went to stay with her for a month." Now he smiles, a private, affectionate smile. "She always could keep me sane."

"Do you still talk to her?"

"Sometimes, yeah. The ranch keeps her busy. Her kids help out and she's got a husband now, but it's a bigger operation than it was when I was there, and it takes a lot of her time. It's okay. She loves it. She's really happy. I've got a pretty good life that keeps me busy too."

They find a little coffeehouse near NYU to talk some more and rest up before their next excursion, and Jensen is in the middle of a sentence when Jared holds out a hand and tells him to shush.

"I'm sorry?" Jensen says, offended. He's too old to be shushed.

"Listen." Jared points to the ceiling, indicating the song playing in the coffeehouse, and Jensen closes his mouth and listens. He doesn't think he knows it, but there's something vaguely familiar about the music anyway.

"'The Ghost in the Chelsea'," Jared says after a minute. "From our third album."

And Jensen suddenly remembers being in Tower Records with the Krays' new album playing on the sound system, his attention catching on the chorus of this song and his anger taking him out of the store.

"That was about me, wasn't it," Jensen says. "It was about us."

"Yeah, it was. Chad knew, but no one else had any idea. Even Gabe thought it was just a song, and he knew that you and I were a couple. He knew I broke up with you."

Jensen can remember how angry he was at Jared breaking up with him and then having the balls to write a melancholy song about him, but it's like remembering the numbers on an invoice. There's no emotional attachment to it at all. He's relieved.

"It was a B-side but it never got a lot of airplay," Jared goes on. "I was always disappointed by that. I thought it was a good song."

Something else is playing in the coffeehouse now, which Jensen doesn't recognize.

"Is this the Krays too?" he asks.

Jared cocks his head, listening, then shakes his head no. And Jensen is relieved about that too. He dredged up enough of the past. He just wants to go forward.

"I didn't tell you I tried to find everyone," Jared says, blessedly changing the subject. "After JJ found me and told me I should get back in touch with you, I went on a spree. I couldn't find Rachel, but Adrianne's an adjunct professor of anthropology in New Mexico. Alona lives on a dairy farm and writes about cheese and bees and music soothing the placid milk-producing beast. She posts a lot on Instagram. You should check her out. Rob has fallen off the face of the earth, but Rich is in Seattle, giving guitar lessons and running a recording studio out of his garage. I think he's on his second wife. Steve is in Baltimore – he's a public school math teacher. Can you believe that? I always thought he and Chris would be working together forever."

"He ran a record store with the Pits' drummer," Jensen says. "It must have closed. He and Chris don't talk that much. I think he was pissed when Chris quit music to go into the restaurant biz."

"Chris is a chef?"

"He's got a restaurant in Boulder – The Red House - if you're ever out that way and have a craving for a good steak. We don't see each other as much as we'd like, but we talk a lot. He's really happy."

"I'm glad. I always liked him. I even found Hayley! She has a husband and three kids and a dog and a clothing boutique in Brighton, an hour south of London. You probably know what Felicia's up to - "

"Of course. She and Danny kept in touch. I'm sure you found her. She's all over the internet."

Felicia is still drawing comics, but now she also offers the middle-aged nerd perspective on a geek podcast, and she's very dedicated to making comics more welcoming for girls.

"I even listened to her podcast," Jared says. He grins. "I know you don't need me to tell you what Danneel's been doing."

Of course Jensen knows what happened to Danneel, that she moved to New Orleans and started making clothes full-time and resurrected _Doom Pastry_ as an online zine, and she's still painting and still his best friend who isn't Chris.

Jensen's phone buzzes with a text from JJ. _Are you having fun?_ it says. _Wasn't this a good idea? ;)_

_Yes_ , Jensen texts back.

"JJ?" Jared asks him. Jensen nods. "Tell her I say hi and 'Thank you'."

_Jared says thank you_ , he texts obediently. _We're going out for dinner now._

"We should go eat real food," he says.

Dinner is a random French bistro near 7th Avenue. Jensen has a glass of wine. Jared toasts him with his water glass - "To old friends" - and then eats all of the dessert Jensen thought they ordered to share.

"Where to now?" Jared asks after they pay and head out. It's cooler, but still pleasant. Jensen doesn't want to leave him but doesn't have any ideas. All he knows is that he's tired of walking. "There's an all-hours bookstore near here, I think. Or we could go back to my hotel." For the first time all day he sounds unsure, and Jensen can clearly hear Jared's much younger self in that uncertainty. "Unless you want to walk around some more, but I think we've seen everything that's still left."

"Where are you staying?"

"The Park Lane. I wanted to be able to go running in Central Park in the morning." He looks Jensen up and down. "I don't think you'll be able to come with me tomorrow."

"Why not?"

"Those aren't running clothes." Jared's grin is sudden and wide and blinding.

Jensen pulls out his phone. _Don't wait up_ , he texts his daughter. _I'll see you in the morning._

Jared's room at the hotel overlooks the park. The city was always prettier at night, especially from above, and Jensen takes a minute to just enjoy the view.

"It's been so long," Jared says, coming up behind him, "that this will be like we're getting to know each other all over again."

It's already much different from the first time they slept together, or even the last - they're both sober, the bed is big and comfortable, the mattress is sitting on a box spring on an actual frame, and there's no noise from the neighbors. Jared kisses the back of Jensen's neck, and then Jensen turns around so Jared can kiss his mouth.

They were just kids when they met. Jensen liked to think himself worldly and experienced, but the fact was, he hadn't even graduated from art school yet. He had his whole life ahead of him and so many more things to learn.

He still has things to learn, chief among them what turns Jared on, and if it's the same things that worked thirty-five years ago.

It turns out that some things haven't changed after all.

And some things have – Jared is a much better kisser than Jensen remembers, and they're both much more patient than they used to be. They take their time with each other, trying to learn each other's bodies all over again, what they like, what they don't. Jared is still talkative, still loud, still eager to suck Jensen's cock. He's in good shape, and he still gets Jensen hard. And Jensen, for his part, is pleased to see that Jared is still aroused by the touch of his hands and the rasp of his tongue and the heat of his body.

Jensen can't help but laugh when Jared pauses long enough to retrieve a condom and some lube from where he has apparently stashed them in the nightstand.

"I came prepared," Jared says, breathless and pleased with himself.

"I can tell."

He breathes out when Jared enters him, a long sigh of pleasure and something that might be relief. Jared takes his time with this as he has with everything else since he kissed Jensen in front of the window. Jensen doesn't want to rush either.

"What's next?" Jared asks him later, after Jensen has borrowed something to sleep in and they've arranged themselves under the blankets.

"What do you mean? We're going to sleep, and in the morning we'll have wake-up sex, you'll go for a run, I'll take a shower, we'll have breakfast."

"After that. I just got you back, I don't want to let you go again."

Jensen sits up. "Do you really want to get involved with me now? After one day together, after thirty years? How do you know I'm not already seeing someone?"

"Would you have slept with me if you did?" Jared pauses as if to make his point. "JJ told me. Look – I want to get to know you again. I just spent most of a day and all night trying to do that. I want to keep doing it. So yeah, I want to commit."

Jensen flops back down on the bed and rubs his eyes with both hands. "I don't know if I can. I really enjoyed being with you today, once it wasn't weird anymore. I still love to kiss you, I still love it when you fuck me. I'm not a one-night-stand kind of guy, but I don't want a long-distance relationship."

Jared pulls Jensen's hands away from his face and kisses him lightly on the mouth. "What if I moved to Chicago?"

"I couldn't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking, I'm offering. You don't have to answer me now, but think about it. We can talk about it more in the morning."

But "talk about it more in the morning" turns out to mean that Jared will roll Jensen onto his stomach and fuck him slow and shallow, and when Jensen has had enough, he'll push Jared off him and Jared will suck his cock until he gasps out his climax and comes down Jared's throat.

Then he'll return the favor, and after Jared has caught his breath he'll whisper, "What if I open a club in Chicago?" in Jensen's ear. "I'll spend half the year there and half the year in Austin. Maybe you can find a job teaching at UT and split your time too. We can do it, Jensen. We can make it work." 

Maybe they can. Maybe they just both had to grow up before they could really be together.

Jensen wonders if subconsciously he wanted this all along – not just to see Jared again, but to get back together with him. Not to relive his twenties, but in the hope that they're still compatible as adults.

Jensen's daughter made him come back to New York because she wanted to see where he came from, because she wanted to revisit his past with him, and because she wanted to give him this key to his future. He doesn't know what kind of future he and Jared have. He doesn't know what exactly that key will unlock. But he wants to find out.

"Okay," he concedes. "I still can't ask you to move, and I don't think I want to split my time anywhere, but I'll try being long-distance. You can put 'In a relationship' on your Facebook page."

"Jensen? Did you look me up on Facebook?" Jared's voice is teasing, as if he already knows the answer.

"I might have. JJ made me tell her all about you, and after that I was curious." He'd read just enough to learn that Jared seemed to be happy. At the time, he didn't need to know more.

Jared grins wide enough to split his face – _Just like JJ_ , Jensen thinks – and grabs Jensen's face and kisses him.

"I promise I won't abandon you for my career this time," he says.

"I won't let you, either."

Jensen knows before he leaves the hotel that the city will look different this morning. It will feel different. It's not the city he knew, but that's okay. He's not the same either.

He and Jared go back to the Village and find a diner for breakfast, and Jensen can't help but remember where they went the day after their first night together, the diner where they ate pancakes for lunch and talked about being someone's first. The 10,000 Maniacs cover of Patti Smith's "Because the Night" is playing over the sound system now as the hostess leads them to a booth.

How fitting. Patti was one of the things that brought him to New York when he was eighteen, and here are her words, sung by a different voice. Jensen won't ever live here again, but he can walk the streets with fond nostalgia at what he remembers rather than despair at what has changed.

Change isn't all bad. He changed. Jared changed. This time they might even be able to make a relationship that will last.

And maybe he has New York to thank for that. It brought so many good things into his life the first time, it makes sense that it would bring at least one of those things back now.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks!
> 
> dear_tiger for asking question, shaking pompoms, wanting photo reference, putting up with my babble, and googling pics of scary Russian kitchens with bathtubs at great risk to her own sanity. Also, for beta-ing and suffering through my triple-decker juggernaut sentences. I'm sorry there were no hedgehogs this year.  
> alwaysawkward for making some fantastic art that made me squee. :D [Go see!](http://alwaysawkward.livejournal.com/240317.html)  
> bleodswean for sharing stories of her punk days, even tho she was west coast and my fic is east.  
> gnomi for listening to me ramble and reminding me that NYC + the early 80s = Jensen is going to know someone who dies of complications from AIDS.  
> paleogymnast (the mod) and my fellow bigbangers at omgspnbigbang for camaraderie, flail, general support, and the comforting idea that we're all in this together.  
> the nice people on the Nanowrimo forums for talking to me about zines.  
> Allyson from my writing group, for vetting the fic for historical, locational, and sensory accuracy.  
> wendy for continuing to mod this mad challenge, and for being an all-around fabulous human being.  
> and Patti Smith and the ghost of Edie Sedgwick, for reasons that make sense to no one but me. 
> 
> ridiculous author's note [here](http://tsuki-no-bara.livejournal.com/1810760.html), and playlist and reference pics [here](http://tsuki-no-bara.livejournal.com/1811043.html).


End file.
